Dark Avatar
by UrsusUngue
Summary: The struggle between order and chaos wages both internally and externally
1. Wind in the Sand

_It begins as an almost imperceptible whisper, a caress of sound. The hollow wind picks up to a low moan with undulating rhythm, then a sustained rush. There is no variation now, save for an increasing intensity, rising to a shriek. Louder still, the wind drowns all thought; strips all to bare, lifeless bone._

The jagged peaks rose above the low lying clouds, creating a jumbled archipelago in a sea of white. On a lower, gradual peak lay the Southern Air Temple. Black smoke was already rising from the ancient, cold compound. Some low level blasts emanated from the temple, echoing off the neighboring summits.

A squad of Fire Nation soldiers, resplendent in their red cloaks and imperial helms, trotted up to a flat, squat building near the edge of the temple. They lined up on either side of the dark door, three on the right, four on the left. Hushed, terrified breathing could be heard from inside. At a nod from their captain, the soldiers thrust into the doorway, illuminating the single room with their hand fire. There was no trap sprung, no final defense for the last of the Air Nomads. There was only a wizened man, surrounded by his silent, obedient pupils.

The captain strode forward triumphantly, while the remaining soldiers enclosed the robed and hooded nomads in a ring of fire.

"This is the end," the captain cackled.

The aged nomad lifted his ancient face to meet the captain's stare. "Is it truly your intention to end these childrens' journeys today?"

"Their lives, your life, all of your miserable race will be nothing more than ash and memory," the captain growled. The pupils still remained silent, their faces hidden within their orange hoods.

The nomad gave a deep, pained sigh and let his hands fall to his sides. "So be it," he whispered. The soldiers moved in for the killing blow.

The nomad's arms jerked up, and his hands began an intricate dance around each other, creating a whirling ball of wind. The blasts of fire sent from the soldiers' hands drifted harmlessly around the pupils, and were sucked into the rapidly accelerating sphere of air in front of the nomad. The robes surrounding the nomad were caught by the maelstrom sweeping the room, and were incinerated by the orb of wind and fire. The robes had been empty all along, held up by the nomad's air manipulation. It had been a difficult task, but the nomad's next duty would be far more difficult. Not for his body or mind, but for his soul.

Recovering from his initial shock, the captain advanced upon the nomad, intending to crush the old man's throat with his bare hands. But his steps faltered, and he fell to his knees. The captain could see his soldiers collapse behind the nomad, grasping their throats, gasping for air. He himself could feel the breath leave his chest and exit his mouth. The captain fell prostrate on the floor, drawing labored gasps in vain.

But the nomad kept his hands twirling, his fingers whirling, his drooped eyes fixed on the air sphere. The fading remnants of the fire in the sphere cast long, growing shadows in the room. Suddenly, it seemed to the nomad that the light became purple, and he saw himself holding the shining orb. Not his worldly self, but a cosmic representation, an ethereal being surrounded by the universe. The nomad smiled. He was being called home. But it was only a vision. The cosmic being floated away into space, out of sight. The nomad, losing consciousness, fell to the ground. The ethereal orb faded from purple, to red, and then was finally swallowed up by the surrounding darkness.

* * *

BOOK ONE: VOID

CHAPTER ONE: WIND IN THE SAND

Crisp purple and green ribbons lit up the nighttime sky. When the moon was alone over the cooling sands, the desert was monochromatic. But tonight, the shifting lights bathed the dunes in color, creating wild spectrums at the confluences of green and violet. The scattered grains of quartz reflected the light, creating a sea of stars to rival the heavens.

No aurora had ever been seen in the Si Wong desert. The elders were already arguing over whether this was a portent of doom, or the herald of great tidings, the predictions growing in intensity as the debate ran on.

But the man pacing outside the ornate tent did not care about tidings, or portents, or the sand's rich shades, or the strange lights in the sky. Chieftain Pashta's entire world consisted of the harsh sounds of childbirth emanating from the tent. Suddenly, the sound stopped. Pashta looked up worriedly from his well-trod path. Then he heard the healthy squall of a newborn. After a few moments, a handmaiden emerged from the tent bearing a bundle of gray clothes. She gave the swaddled child to Pashta, smiling.

"A beautiful girl, chieftain."

Pashta took the bundle, wonderingly, trembling. He peered at the baby within.

Her skin was like alabaster, with no imperfections. Her pudgy fingers reached out to touch the face of her father. A shock of platinum blonde hair stood out from the crown of her head. Her dark green eyes rose up to look in wonder at the chaotic dance of color in the sky.

Pashta broke his hypnotic stare and glanced fearfully at the tent. "Aisha…"

"Your wife is resting comfortably," the handmaiden soothed. She then giggled and motioned to the baby. "This one didn't want to come out. She's a fighter."

Pashta smiled. "That is good. She will make a strong chieftain one day." He then held his daughter aloft, framing her against the blazing sky.

"The very heavens weep for joy," he began. "You are heir to all that I am. You are the love of my life, the starlight in my eyes. You are Nourma."

* * *

"Hey, Nourma!"

Nourma turned towards the exclamation. At age sixteen, she was on the cusp of womanhood, but still retained the playfulness and unreserved smile of a child. He body had become tough and lithe after years of dune running and lean desert living. Her skin was still smooth, protected from the harsh sun by her rough brown robe and hood. Poking out from her drawn hood were the loose bangs of her shoulder length hair, still unorthodoxly platinum. Nourma's eyes, however, were unchanged from infancy. They still regarded everything with a curious fascination. They were currently observing the boy who had called her name from across the crowded market square.

Mehdi was 54 days, 7 hours, and 42 minutes older than Nourma, and he reminded her of that fact every day. He was dressed in the same garb as Nourma, indeed,the same garb as everyone in the village. His eyes and hair were brown, slightly bleached under the harsh desert sun, and constantly sandy. His features were unremarkable, save for a slightly crooked nose, the result of a nasty fall. The mishap served less as a deterrent, and more as a matter of pride to the adolescents of the village, namely, Mehdi and Nourma.

A matter of pride was the driving force behind the always escalating and ever inconclusive challenges between the teenagers. One day they would race to the top of the radio tower, the following day would see them try to keep pace with the monorail on its route from Ky Shek to Dusty Palms. Today, however…

"Top of the East Dune!" Mehdi cried out, his voice rising above the bustle of the market. Nourma nodded her acceptance. They started walking to the east end of the square, their eyes fixed on each other, daring one another to make the first move. Mehdi disappeared behind a fruit stand, and reappeared at a furious run. The race had begun.

Nourma pushed off a nearby crate and propelled herself into the crowd. Precariously, she wove her way around vendors, customers, and their wares. A camel-ox's rear loomed in front of her. She brought her hands down on the rump and catapulted herself up and over the horns, landing on the other side. The creature bellowed in protest, but Nourma had already reached the edge of the market.

Mehdi was a few paces ahead of Nourma, weaving through the dark and labyrinthine alleys. Suddenly, a cart piled high with fresh cabbages appeared in front of them, blocking the alley. Mehdi slid between the wheels and under the cart. resuming his stride on the other side. Nourma gathered herself, and sprang over the cart, twisting her body midair to barely avoid toppling the produce. She rolled as she landed, and resumed the chase, having lost several steps on Mehdi. Nourma knew, from many, many races, that Mehdi was unbeatable on the streets. There were other ways, however, to reach the village's edge.

Espying a low-hanging awning, Nourma jumped up, grabbed the support beam, and clambered onto the thick fabric. She leapt across the alley. Nourma's fingertips met the rain gutter on the opposite roof, arresting her fall. She pushed her feet against the wall and propelled herself out of the alley and into the open air.

The entire village was laid out before her, the bleached-white roofs dazzling under the beating sunlight. The expanse of baking stucco was criss-crossed with the dark, cool lines of streets and alleys; like cracked mud after a thunderburst. The village roofs were uniformly flat, punctuated only by the radio tower and the assorted memorial flags fluttering limply in the calm air. Nourma started her run anew. She ran in a straight line, leaping over the gaps in her way. The East Dune was now visible as a golden mound cresting the final row of dwellings. Nourma's feet made a steady cadence of slaps on the textured roof. She could feel the heat radiating through her moccasins, forcing her to keep her steps light, onward to the finish.

Nourma reached the edge of the village, and without hesitation, jumped down into the waiting sand. While in midair, she saw Mehdi burst from the street below. She landed a few steps in front of him and began the climb up the dune, struggling to find purchase in the sifting sands. Mehdi was more adept on the dune, and quickly overtook Nourma, sprinting to the top. Nourma had lost the race, but she pushed on, arriving at the crest a few seconds behind Mehdi.

Mehdi collapsed on the sand, flush with victory. He spat his staccato phrases out in between huge gulps of air.

"I...win...again!"

Nourma noticed that her hood had fallen to her shoulders. She drew it over her head and sat down beside Mehdi. Nourma was breathing evenly; Mehdi noticed that she never seemed winded.

"When...will...you learn...that I'm...faster...than you?"

Nourma was suddenly in a furious rage. She pictured herself pummeling Mehdi's face, kicking his ribs, leaving him unconscious in the desert, to be covered by the dunes. Then, the red vision dissipated as quickly as it had appeared, leaving Nourma shocked and troubled. Where had that come from? she thought to herself.

Mehdi noticed Nourma's demeanor. "You alright?" he asked.

Nourma nodded.

"C'mon Nourma, you can tell me."

Nourma thought of a way to change the subject. "I was just thinking of how I'm the first non-bender in my family."

Mehdi nodded. Nourma's family was primarily comprised of benders: people with the ability to manipulate and move sand and stone. This talent was not unique to her family; many villagers were benders. But Nourma's family had always led the Hami tribe. Nourma would be the first chieftain without bending ability.

"Look at it this way," Mehdi offered, "Being a bender doesn't make you good or bad. Your great-great-grandmother, Chieftain Mezza, was a horrible leader, but a wonderful bender. She could whip up a sandstorm and whip up an excuse for the wine barrel being empty at the same time!" Nourma looked over and smiled

"And remember One-Eyed Orr?" Mehdi continued, "He couldn't bend a grain of sand. But he went out in that flash flood and rescued that flock of ewe-goats!"

Mehdi stood up and helped Nourma to her feet. "You are going to be an awesome chieftain someday, bending or no bending And if anyone gives you trouble just because you can't move a bit of dirt around well, I'll...I'll knock 'em down!"

They sat in silence for a time, two silent figures looking down at the bustling village.

Mehdi flashed a quick grin at Nourma and trotted down the dune. The landscape was bathed in the purple and red light of the setting sun. Nourma watched him go. Mehdi's words had comforted her, but she was still haunted by the vividness of that violent vision. It wasn't the first she'd had, Nourma thought. And she knew in her heart that there was more to come. The dusk deepened, melding the shadows into inky blackness.

* * *

As mother to the future leader of the Hami tribe, Aisha was tasked with giving Nourma and education beyond proper cistern collection and grazing rotations. Under her mother's tutelage, Nourma had learned all the tribes and families of the desert, and the complex balance of land and water rights that kept all parties amicable. She was now learning about the political entity directly above the Si Wong desert, which was called...

"The Earth Confederacy" answered Nourma, in response to Aisha's prompt.

"Correct. The leader of the Earth Confederation..."

"Chieftain Wu!" Nourma exclaimed.

"King Wu." Aisha corrected.

"Right, King Wu, I knew that."

Aisha rolled her eyes. "Where is his capital?"

Nourma scrunched her face. "Ba Sing Se?" she hazarded.

"Correct. And what relationship do the desert tribes have with the Confederacy?"

"Father told me." replied Nourma. "I think the word was auto-nam-us? But I don't know what it means."

Aisha smiled. "The word is autonomous. It means we are free to conduct our own business without interference from the king."

Nourma pondered this for a minute. "Father rules the Hami tribe," she began, "and the tribes rule the desert. King Wu rules the Earth Confederacy. Does anyone rule over him?"

Aisha sucked in breath between her teeth. "It's complicated."

Nourma pouted. "Father says I'm a smart girl."

"Someone's been telling you lies again," Aisha teased.

Nourma opened her mouth in feigned indignation, but pressed on regardless. "Every place has a ruler, and a ruler over them. Who rules the world"

"The Avatar," Aisha replied matter-of-factly.

Nourma was silent. She had heard the elders' tales of the Avatar; how she had destroyed Chin the Conqueror and his army by herself, how he had held back the Great Comet from consuming the world in fire, how she had battled a great spirit and restored balance to the land. The elders could never decide whether the Avatar was a woman or a man, but, Nourma reflected, the elders couldn't decide which was the stinger end of a scorpion-snake.

Aisha continued: "The Avatar can bend not only rock, but water and fire and air. She is the only person able to bend more than one element."

"So the Avatar is a woman," Nourma interjected.

Aisha waved her palm back and forth in a "maybe" gesture. "It depends. Our current Avatar is a woman, Korra, from the Water Tribes. But, if I recall correctly, when one Avatar dies, another is born of the opposite sex. The Avatar line has been around since before our tribe."

Nourma wondered what it would be like to bend four elements. In that moment, for an instance, she had a terrible vision of herself rising above a ruined world that she had drowned, burned, and buried; a powerful empress ruling over an empire of the dead. The unbidden thought left her head as before, and she noticed her mother looking at her quizzically. To cover herself, Norma blurted out: "It must be great, having all that power"

Aisha shook her head. "I wouldn't think so. When a person has that much power, it becomes difficult to solve problems. From what I've heard, destruction and devastation follow the Avatar around, like a curse." She chuckled softly. "Running this small village is enough for me."

"I thought Father ran the village." Nourma asked with a knowing smile.

"Someone's been telling you lies again."

* * *

The next evening, Nourma waited on top of the roof overlooking the market square. When she saw Mehdi, she called down "The Sunken Mast!", referring to a decrepit sand cruiser half-buried in the dunes on the west side of the village. Mehdi looked up and grinned. "Even with your head start, I'll still beat you!"

As a reply, Nourma started her run. She had secretly borrowed a builder's measuring pole, and she used it to vault over the first wide jump. She could see Mehdi below her, pushing off from the alley corners, giving himself even more speed.

Nourma's next leap was farther. Luckily, she had altruistically installed a taut clothesline for the residents below her. This had the curious side effect of giving Nourma a springing-off point midway through her fall. She grasped onto the roof of the opposite building, pulled herself up, and continued sprinting. She could see the mast.

Nourma reached the building at the west end. She slid down the sand drift that reached to the roof, and continued her run. The mast was just a measure away now. Nourma heard Mehdi's labored breath catching up to her, right behind her, right beside her,and right in front of her. With every step, Mehdi increased his lead on Nourma.

"You'll...never...catch...up!"

The rage took Nourma. This time it was not qualified with an image, but rather a visceral feeling of anger, shame, and impotence, that culminated in a very real explosion under her feet.

The blast catapulted Nourma over Mehdi, and deposited her head-first at the base of the mast. Nourma pulled her head from the sand and turned back to face Mehdi. He had stopped a few yards shy, looking at Nourma dumbfounded, too shocked to breathe.

"You...bent...air," Mehdi gasped, as if words would bring comprehension.

Nourma looked down at her hands. Sure enough, even now, there was a slight, unnatural breeze flowing down her arms. But that wasn't all. In a daze, Nourma looked back at the small crater her explosion had left in the sand. There were scorch marks lining the edges. She examined her hands. Coming off her fingertips, almost imperceptible, were tiny jets of flame.

Fire and air. Two elements at once.

Nourma raised her head, tears in her eyes.

"What am I?"

Mehdi stared back, mouth agape, more frightened of Nourma's tears than of what had happened.

Nourma pulled her hood back over her head, turned, and ran. Paralyzed, Mehdi watched her disappear over the nearest dune.

The setting sun followed her a few minutes later. Then, the evening winds began.


	2. Cairns

BOOK ONE: VOID

CHAPTER TWO: CAIRNS

Nourma staggered over a dune. She had lost count of how many she had climbed that morning. She had also lost her footprints leading back to the village; the wind had taken care of that. She had also lost her identity. Nourma was no longer a Hami tribe member, nor a chieftain's daughter. By bending one foreign element, she became an outsider. By bending two foreign elements, she became something much worse. She was a freak, she was a monster.

She was lost.

After discovering her predicament the previous night, Nourma remembered what her father had taught her should she find herself stranded in the desert. She set up her undershirt as a water catchment in a hollow between two dunes. She had slept near the top, but not at the top, of a nearby dune, in her rough robe,with the hood cinched tightly around her head. Upon waking, she found that her undershirt had collected a mouthful of dew, which she drank greedily, without abandon.

But now the sun had fully risen and waves of heat slammed into Nourma. She had not seen any landmarks, any sign of civilization. Endless stretches of sterile sand stretched as far as her eyes could see. With her footprints erased, there was no hope of rescue. Nourma's legs gave out, and she tumbled down the side of the dune into a shady hollow. The sand felt cool and soft against her cheek. The blood thrumming in her head was lulling her to sleep. It would be so easy, she thought, to calmly nod off, to enjoy a few moments of rest.

"Excuse me!" a voice cried out. Nourma looked up. There was no one in sight.

"I appear to be lost. Do you happen to know the way out of this sandy wonderland?" The voice was old and weary; it seemed to be laden down with decades of toil. But underneath the surface, Nourma sensed a great enthusiasm, hidden behind a deadpan delivery. She could still not see the source of the voice.

"Failing a way out, do you happen to have some ice cordial?" the phantom voice continued. "Judging from your appearance, I would guess no, but I have been trying to be more optimistic."

Nourma stood up and looked behind her. Coming down the dune was the most peculiar man she had seen in her life.

He obviously wasn't native to the desert. His wrinkled skin was pale, almost translucent. Instead of a homespun, thick brown robe, he was wearing a fine orange robe, with a white sash hanging across his chest. Strangest of all, Nourma could see a blue lined tatoo curving up his arms. The tattoo came up the back of the neck, over the bald head, and culminated in a little design on the man's forehead. The design was difficult to see, because the stranger had a lone curl of white hair that grew from his forehead and extended to just above his eyes.

"Who are you?" Nourma asked, stepping back a pace.

The strange man frowned. "Back in my day, the youngsters introduced themselves first."

"When was 'your day'?" Nourma inquired, sardonically.

"Oh, about ten thousand years ago," the man replied, nonchalantly. Nourma reached for the small dagger hidden in the sleeve of her robe.

"Put that away, young girl!" the stranger snapped. "It won't hurt me, at least not any more than your rudeness."

Nourma stood her ground, hand on the dagger. "Who are you?" she repeated.

The man spread his palms skyward and looked up. "Oh joy," he said, "I've finally found someone as irritable as me." He looked down at Nourma. "To answer your question, my name is Linus. I'm an Airbender. And you should have known that if you'd studied history, instead of knife-work. I'm pretty famous." Nourma stared at him, eyes furrowed.

"No big deal," Linus continued, "I was just the second Avatar."

* * *

Mehdi told Pasha and Aisha of Nourma's disappearance, of how she had run off into the desert. He told of how he tried to follow her after coming to his senses, but it quickly became too dark to see, and he retreated back to the village to ask for help. At this point, Pasha rushed out, ordering men to start up the sandcruiser and calling for lights.

Aisha stayed with Mehdi, questioning him further.

"But why would she run away?" she asked, trying unsuccessfully to hide the fear in her voice.

Mehdi hesitated, biting his lip, looking away.

"Please," Aisha pleaded. Mehdi looked up and saw the tears in her eyes.

"She…" Mehdi began, "she bent air. She made an airblast and sailed right over me. I couldn't believe it."

Aisha released a small gasp, then covered her mouth, restraining herself. "My poor child."

Mehdi suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable, and embarrassed for Aisha. He murmured, "Please, may I go tell my parents that I'm alright?"

"Of course." Aisha put a trembling hand on Mehdi's shoulder. "Thanks you for telling me. I will come see you if I have anymore questions."

"Thank you." Mehdi took his leave and exited the house, pausing briefly by Nourma's empty room.

On the way back to his house, he overheard two elders discussing the disappearance.

"It's a shame about that poor girl," one of them remarked. "There's no finding her now."

Mehdi wheeled around and sprang to the elder. "Why not!" he cried.

The elder answered, eager to prove his knowledge. "Don't you feel that? The wind's picking up. It will have already covered her tracks. This is the harbinger of a huge sandstorm; it'll hit about two mornings from now. Ain't nothing will survive in that." He rubbed his nose. "Shame, really."

Mehdi resisted the urge to hit him for his callousness. But he began to think, eyes darting unconsciously. He made up his mind.

He ran back to his house, snuck into his room, grabbed his satchel, stole some fruits and two canteens from the kitchen, and snuck out again without being caught by his parents. He ran to the west end of the village, to where Nourma's crater still lay, rapidly filling with sand. Mehdi pulled his hood over his head and began to walk in a straight line. He knew where Nourma would be.

* * *

When Nourma drank her fill from the cistern, and Linus did not immediately disappear, she started to believe that he wasn't a figment of her imagination.

After Linus had told Nourma who he was, Nourma just stared blankly back, too tired to speak, too exhausted to think. Disappointed, Linus had sighed and started walking. Nourma followed with a sense of fatalism. After an hour, they came across a cistern hidden in a rock outcropping. The water was stale and brackish, but to Nourma, it was magical, and she drank deeply.

"Do you want any?" Nourma inquired after she had had her fill.

"How gracious of you to offer, after all this time!" replied Linus. "I was beginning to wonder if you had a hospitable side."

Nourma ignored his jibe. "You don't need water?"

"I haven't needed water in thousands of years."

Nourma shrank back. "Are you a djinn? A ghost of the desert?"

Linus chuckled. "A djinn! I wish. They get to have all the fun. No, I'm just a simple spirit. A reflection, if you will, of my past life." He sat down cross legged in front of Nourma. "Since your mental faculties seem to be returning, I'll lay it out straight for you. Unless you want to go back to roaming the sands?"

Nourma shook her head. "I recognize this cistern. It belongs to the Umara tribe. We have water and shade here, as well as sage roots; enough to last until help comes."

"Goodee." Linus intoned. "Let's try to figure out what you need help with, er…" he gestured towards Nourma.

"My name is Nourma, daughter of Pasha and Aisha, future chieftain of…" she trailed off. Her mother and father's names had reminded Nourma of her own unnatural abilities. Tears sprang unbidden in her eyes.

"Well, maybe," Nourma started. Then the tears and words came flowing, unstoppable, out of her. "But I bent air and fire yesterday. But I didn't mean to! It just...happened. Does that make me the Avatar? Anyways, I can't be the Avatar. The current one, Korra, I mean, is still alive! Isn't that how it works? Only one at a time! But what does that make me?" At this, Nourma collapsed, sobbing.

Linus looked pained. "Ah, Nourma," he said, "I don't want to be insensitive, but crying won't really help you, and you're low enough on water already."

Nourma continued crying unabated. "You don't understand! I'm a freak! I had my life all planned out. I was going to be a Hami chieftain, and after yesterday it's all ruined!"

Linus' eyes lit up. "I don't understand? Ah. That's what I call a perfect segue."

Nourma sniffled. "What's a segue?"

Linus wore an exasperated expression. "A segue is...well...you really have to...nevermind. Pipe down and listen…"

* * *

Linus of Bear Temple was born thirty-one years after Avatar Wan led the Great Spiritual Schism...

* * *

"I don't know what or who or where any of those things are." interjected Nourma.

Linus groaned. "Do they teach kids anything these days?" Nourma just shrugged her shoulders. The old man pondered for a moment.

"Okay, the only thing you really need to know is that Wan was the first Avatar. I was born when he died. I'm his successor. That's why I referred to myself as the second Avatar. I may have mentioned that before."

"But what about Bear Temple and…"

"Never mind about that," Linus said. "Just pretend that you know what they are. I've told this story five times before now, and I'm not changing it for you. Moving on…"

* * *

Linus of Bear Temple was born thirty one years after Avatar Wan led the Great Spiritual Schism. He never knew his mother or father, but trained with a group of other boys his age, as was tradition.

His home was Bear Temple, a mountain fortress built into the side of a cliff. The temple had begun as a series of caves, but the settlers expanded it into a network of labyrinthian passages and chambers, with the help of a few Earthbenders who were willing to trust outsiders.

For Bear Temple was isolated and hidden for a reason. The world had plunged into anarchy following Avatar Wan's death. Roving bands of benders roamed the countryside, preying on the powerless, taking what they wanted.

Linus, however, was sheltered from the chaos outside the temple. He buried himself in his studies, training and meditation. He was an Airbender, like the rest of his peers, and he quickly learned the air push, the wind cut, and the cyclone.

When the temple elders determined he had advanced sufficiently, Linus received the traditional tattoos of a Master Airbender: blue lines tracing up his legs, around his arms, and over his head. After the tattoos had healed, Linus called on the abbot. Standing next to the abbot was something Linus had never seen before: a woman airbender.

"I am entrusting you to Master Eru," the abbot said without preamble, gesturing to the female airbender. Linus looked at her. Instead of the orange robes universally worn at Bear Temple, Master Eru wore a woolen coat and pants of dark green. Her face was lined with age, and her eyes were cold and grey. Linus gulped.

"You will serve in her squad," the abbot continued, "dispensing justice, and protecting the helpless." He touched his left hand to his forehead and mouth in the traditional sign for farewell. Linus repeated the gesture.

"Go now, and may the spirits smile upon you."

Eru threw a bundle at Linus; Linus caught it and followed his new master down a side passage. Linus, struggling to keep up, called out: "What are my orders, Master?"

Eru snorted. "You have three orders. One, don't call me master. Two, put those clothes on. You look ridiculous in those robes."

She quickly turned around and looked at Linus for the first time. Linus shrank under her piercing gaze.

"Three: try not to die."

* * *

Linus was twenty-one when he left Bear Temple. The next six years were the best of his life. Eru's squad, seven men and women of varying ages and abilities, roamed through a vast swath of the lawless wilds. They lived off the land, subsisting off meru roots, buried in the springy turf, or sweet mushrooms, hidden in dark, cool glades. An airbender is always light of foot; and they sped silently over mossy rock and fallen tree, so that not even a boar-buck could sense their passing.

Under Eru's discerning eye they refined their airbender skills. Airbending is a defensive art, and properly suited to the squad's mission. They protected villages from the marauding bands of Firebenders and Earthbenders. The bandits attacked singularly: an errant burst of flame, a wildly chucked boulder. Eru's squad fought as one, sending massive gales into the attackers, driving them back into the dark forest.

There were losses: many times the squad arrived at a village only to find it smouldering, its crops and livestock taken, its inhabitants flung to the woods to either seek refuge at a neighboring village, or to join a bandit clan. The squad felt losses among their own ranks as well. Linus counted five comrades who fell during separate skirmishes. The dead were buried under cairns of river stones in a quiet clearing. Eru said that those under the cairns had returned to nature, that they had gone home. She replenished her numbers at the next Airbender temple they visited, and the squad continued stoically in its task.

One evening Linus was at a stream gathering prickleberries for dinner. The rest of the squad was setting up camp downstream. As Linus repeatedly picked from the bush and deposited the berries in his hip satchel, he felt a wet slap on his feet. Linus looked down. The stream had somehow leapt its run and deposited a sluice of water on his moccasins. Linus grimaced: wet moccasins in the evening meant cold and pruny feet the next day. But he resigned himself to that fact, took two steps back, and resumed picking.

Another splash. Linus frowned. He examined the stream, concluding the water could not have leapt the distance naturally. Panicking, he crouched and examined his surroundings. Linus had heard tales of Waterbenders inhabiting the southern coast, but they had never penetrated this far inland. There was no rustling in the foliage, however; and Linus heard no breathing of concealed watchers.

A fearful thought came into Linus' head. Hands trembling, he rose and turned towards the stream. He mimed the action of picking berries: moving his hands from right to left across his waist, his torso pivoting slightly. A wave of crystal clear water rose from the stream with each repetition, higher and higher. There was no doubt. Linus was a Waterbender.

A member of the squad, Avid, crept over the hill. Linus had lingered too long at the stream.

"Linus!" Avid hissed. "Are you in trouble?"

"Yes," Linus replied with a sigh. "I do believe I am."

* * *

Events progressed rapidly from there. Linus told Eru what had happened, and when seeing Linus waterbend for herself, she nodded without comment. Leaving her squad under the command of Avid, who was most senior, she and Linus traveled to Bear Temple and repeated the demonstration for the abbot, who was most impressed.

There they called a council of five abbots and four abbesses, culled from each of the Airbending Temples. They asked Linus to Waterbend, to Airbend, to Waterbend again. Then came the questions; hundreds of queries of the tired young Airbender. After a swift debate, the council made their decision known. Eru's squad was to assault the bandit stronghold. None of the bandits had even seen a Waterbender attack; their defences would be swept away. Linus and Eru nodded, and departed to do their duty.

* * *

After this part of the tale, Linus paused. The desert sun had reached its zenith, and shadows started to creep back again across the sand.

"What happened next?" asked Nourma. Her thirst and hunger had been absorbed by Linus' story: she now felt rejuvenated, eager for more.

Linus, however, looked even more aged and careworn. He opened his mouth, paused, then continued.

"I have never been able to bear talking about that battle." he started. "We took many losses, and many lives in return. In the end, it was me and Eru left, with a great many bandits who had surrendered, their warlord among them..."

* * *

The flickering torches cast long shadows across the rough-hewn wooden walls. Great beams lay splintered on the floor, along with other grim flotsam of the fresh battle. Eru limped over to the weapons rack, ignoring her burns and bruises, and pulled out a great axe. "Right," she muttered. "It's time to end this chaos." She dragged the warlord, rotund in decadence and clothed in furs, onto his hands and knees. He looked up at her, hatred blazing in his eyes. Eru raised the axe.

Linus glanced over, turning his eyes away from his prisoners, and noticed what Eru planned to do. He shouted in protest.

The axe stopped in mid-swing. Eru glared at Linus, and for the first time Linus beheld raw emotion on her face.

"You dare tell me what to do?" she asked. Her voice was cold and trembling.

"We don't kill prisoners." Linus recited. "It's not the Airbender way."

Eru laughed shrilly. "Linus the pupil!" she sneered. "Always reading from the scrolls and giving the correct answers. I would have thought years in the wild would have taught you better than that! This is the real world, and the only way to fight force is with more force. This scum here," she dealt a heavy kick to the warlord, "is the cause of all the violence we have been fighting against, all these years. Those cairns in the forest, where our friends lie, are all because of him!"

"It's not the right way." Linus said meekly.

Eru raised the axe again. "It's the only way."

"No!" Linus shouted. He shot a great blast of air towards Eru. Eru saw the attack,and countered with a much larger air blast, throwing Linus back into a nearby wall. The axe fell.

When Linus staggered to his feet again, the deed was already done. Eru stood, axe in hand, smiling, with tears rolling down her face. She turned to the assembled prisoners, who were huddled in terror.

"Get out!" she roared. The bandits stumbled towards the exits as fast as their legs would carry them. Eru turned to Linus. "You still have a lot to learn."

"Yes," Linus retorted, in a daze, "but not from you."

He staggered back, ignoring Eru's response, and ran, past the carnage, past the destruction, past the sorrow, into the dark woods. There, the wilds swallowed him.

* * *

There was a long period of silence. Nourma stared at Linus, transfixed. Linus sighed. "I must finish that tale another time. But there are two lessons I hope you picked up during my long winded story." Linus' face lost its melancholy as the dark memory faded.

"One: I think you can realize that I have a little first hand experience in bending strange elements. You are in good company." Nourma gave an encouraging grin.

"And second: everyone needs a good mentor, to shepherd them through the tough times. And it just so happens you have one right here! Wise, skilled, and dashingly handsome." He grinned and ran a hand through his lonely white curl of hair. "So together, you and I, we're going to do a bit of Airbender training. Right now!"

Nourma inwardly began to protest. _I don't want to be an Airbender!_ she thought. All her life she had wanted nothing more than to be chieftan of the Hami tribe, like her ancestors before her.

But an inexorable part of her, buried deep down, wanted to explore this newfound power; to cultivate it, to use it, to master it. As if dreaming, she opened her mouth and heard herself say:

"Alright, let's begin."

* * *

Fatima, chieftain of the Umara tribe, gathered her daughters and sons into her conference room. They filed in around the polished obsidian table, their multicolored silk robes almost matching the elegance of their mother's. Six pairs of eyes looked expectantly at her.

"Your cousin Nourma is missing," she stated. Concern registered on most of their faces. Fatima continued. "She ran away last night, heading west from the Hami village. I just received a transmission from her mother asking for our help."

"It's too late, surely," a voice sneered. "She would have dehydrated by now."

"Shame!" Fatima retorted. "That is my sister's daughter you speak of. We have an obligation to help our family, and we will meet that obligation. Furthermore," she continued, looking at each of her children, "and more importantly, there is the tribe's honor. We Umara are the most powerful tribe in the desert, so therefore we shall be the most helpful tribe in the desert. We will not bring dishonor on ourselves by leaving one of the weaker tribes helpless."

She unscrolled a map, holding one end down. One of her daughters held the other end. The rest clustered around her shoulders.

"Sil and Ida will take a cruiser up and down the Nef Canyon. Ali and Dashtu will patrol the borderlands, going from north to south." She traced her finger along the map. "While Mhare and Rega will start in the Deg Heights, making a spiral outward." She tapped her finger twice on the map for emphasis and stood up, her children mimicking her moves. "Check in every hour. I'll have someone on the radio if you need help. Go now, and represent with honor."

"For the Umara." came the murmured response. They filed out in their assigned pairs.

Fatima sat down in her carved wooden chair and rubbed her temples. She had warned her sister about marrying a chieftain of a tiny tribe. _This is what happens,_ she thought, _when you move away from the city to a backwards, dirty village_. Her only consolation was that maybe this would be the push necessary to make Aisha and move back to Ky Shek. Fatima smiled grimly, and turned her attention to the weekly budget reports.

* * *

"Palms forward!"

A wall of air radiated out across the desert, whipping the surface sand into a frenzy.

"Slice! Down and left!"

A curtain of wind dug a shallow line parallel to the dune's ridge.

"Fists down!"

Nourma slammed her fists and knees into the ground. An explosion of air surrounded her, Linus, and the cistern with swirling eddies of coarse sand. Linus waited for it to settle.

"That's enough for now. Time to meditate."

Nourma looked up from her crouched stance, smiling. "Are you worried I'll make you look bad, old man?"

Linus snorted. "If the student performs well, the credit goes entirely to the teacher. At least, if I'm the teacher." His teasing tone hid a nagging worry in his heart. Nourma excelled at Airbending; she was almost too good, too talented. _Am I that good a teacher?_ he asked himself. _Yes,_ he answered immediately, _I really am_.

Nourma rose to her feet, brushing sand off her cloak. For the first time since she had run away, she felt happy. Her adeptness at airbending gave her a sense of belonging. Nourma felt an intrinsic connection with the moves Linus dictated to her. Despite doing them for the first time, the motions seemed fluid, practiced.

"Don't get cocky," Linus warned, trying to hide the satisfaction in his voice. "The moves are only a small part of being an Airbender. A larger part is meditation, looking inward. Does your mind feel clear?"

"Yeah. For the first time in a long time, it does." Nourma murmured, embracing the calmness in her limbs.

"Excellent! Then you are ready to begin. Now, proper position is the key…" Linus looked to the horizon, shielding his eyes. "Hello, what's this?"

Nourma followed his gaze. A sand cruiser was making its way towards the cistern. Nourma espied the markings on the sail: two crossed swords.

"That's the Umara tribe! They'll bring us to Ky Shek! From there we can radio my village and tell them I'm all right." She turned to Linus. "I don't know how I'll explain you."

Linus was unfazed. "I'm a spirit, remember? Only you can see me."

Nourma rolled her eyes. "I'm not sure how I was supposed to know that." She waved her arms, and cried out for joy as the sand cruiser altered its course and began heading towards the cistern. Nourma started walking down the dune to meet the massive vehicle.

A person appeared on the gangplank. "Nourma? What are you doing out here?"

"Cousin Ali!" Nourma exclaimed. "It's so good to see you!"

Ali and a few others jumped off the cruiser once it drifted to a stop. They seemed to take no notice of Linus. Ali ran towards Nourma, arms outstretched. Nourma jogged down to him.

Suddenly, Ali whipped his arm sideways, backhanding Nourma across her face. Nourma fell, sliding down the dune, too shocked to move. The sand felt cool and soft against her cheek. Linus cried out, but only Nourma heard him. Ali turned to his men.

"Bind her hands, put her in the cargo hold." It was done as ordered. The sand cruiser started up again, going up and down the dunes, carrying two new Airbenders.


	3. The Sandstorm

BOOK ONE: VOID

CHAPTER THREE: THE SANDSTORM

The beetle-wasp scurried methodically along the ridge of the dune. Every so often he would stop and lift his pincers to test the air for dangers. The insect longed to go into the shadows of the dune, to rest in the cool shade. But intrinsically he knew of the terrors in the darkness: greater animals than him looking to consume lest they also be consumed by the elements. But for the beetle-wasp, the glare of the sun was just as deadly. It slowly dried all living things, leaving them desiccated, a mummified monument to the inevitability of death.

Balance was imperative. The beetle-wasp slowly crept down the west side of the dune, into the gloom. Suddenly it stopped, testing the air. Vibrations. Something big was coming. The tiny creature parted its shell and furiously beat its wings, expending the last of its reserves to crest the dune and land on the light side.

The sand cruiser burst into view, obliterating the western half of the dune, and roared out of sight. The poor beetle-wasp was caught in the ensuing collapse of sand and was enveloped in millions of granules.

But he was alive.

And where there was life, there was hope.

* * *

Wrath had taken Nourma. She had succumbed to rage upon waking in the pitch black hold of the cruiser. Hers was the righteous fury of someone betrayed. She had trusted her cousin, and yet Ali had struck her without provocation and kidnapped her. He would pay, Nourma thought savagely. Her mind conceived horrible thoughts of retribution, against Ali, and his kin, and his whole Umara tribe. Her thoughts slowly devolved into a dull, pulsing red. The anger made Nourma's temples throb with pain, but she embraced it, eagerly welcoming the visceral feeling.

Eventually, the rage subsided, leaving her cold and spent, lying prostrate on the wooden floor.

"Feeling better?" called a voice from the dark.

Nourma sprang up, her back against the wall, fumbling reflexively for her knife, but her captors had taken it. Comprehension dawned on her.

"Linus?" she croaked.

"In the flesh," the spirit replied. "Well, not exactly, but you know what I mean."

Nourma covered her face with her hands. "Ugh. My head."

"They left you a canteen a while ago. It should be down by your feet."

Nourma knelt and closed her fingers around the canteen. Shaking, she unscrewed the cap and upended the bottle into her mouth. The water was oily, but refreshing nonetheless.

"Ah," she gurgled when she had drank her fill. "Is there anything to eat?"

"Erm." Nourma heard Linus fidget. She began pawing at the floor. "There is, but…" Nourma's fingers closed around something hard and slightly sticky. She brought the object to her face and sniffed.

"Jerky!" she exclaimed.

"I wouldn't eat that!" warned Linus.

"Why?" Nourma dropped the strip. "Is it poison?"

"In a way," Linus answered. "Airbenders believe all life is sacred. That is why we are traditionally vegetarians. So, that meat is spiritually poison."

Nourma picked up the jerky and took a big bite. "Tastes fine to me," she said, chewing. Linus sighed.

"So," Nourma said, after finishing the jerky and taking a swig of water, "where are we?"

"I was hoping you could tell me. I followed you when they threw you in here. How is your face, by the way?"

Nourma touched her cheek where Ali had struck her. It was painful when pressed, but fine otherwise.

"It's nothing," she murmured. "I'll pay him back for that, and more."

Even though she couldn't see Linus' face, she could sense his disapproval of vengeance. She waited for his rebuke. But instead he said:

"Good. I'm glad you're alright. Or as glad as I can be in this infernal machine."

Nourma rose and felt her surroundings. She was enclosed in a wooden room a little wider than her shoulders and slightly taller than herself. If she stretched out both her arms she could touch her fingertips to the rough hewn walls on the opposite ends. To her right, behind solid metal bars, she could hear the steady whining of the cruiser's generator in the main hold. Judging from the smell, Nourma guessed that they were in a sand-shark cargo hold. Sand-sharks were an exotic delicacy for the wealthy denizens of Ba Sing Se and an economic boon for the working poor of the Si Wong desert. Nourma resolved that she would not share their fate; she would not be served on a platter as a hostage.

"Do you have any idea of where we're going?" Linus asked, interrupting Nourma's thoughts.

"I think so. We may be going to Ky Shek. It's where Ali, they guy who hit me, lives. I don't know why he kidnapped me though. We're cousins, we see each other all the time. He was always a little weird, but I never expected this from him."

"What…" began Linus, but Nourma interrupted him.

"I don't know what or why or where, but I'm not sticking around to find out. We're escaping." She started to rattle the iron bars, looking for weaknesses. She found that the gate padlocked, impossible to open.

"May I suggest some meditation?" Linus offered. "A calm mind can lead to…"

Nourma cut him off again. "This is no time for meditation! Can't you see? We're in trouble!"

"Well, you're in trouble." Linus muttered under his breath. Louder, he said, "You're probably right. It would be impossible to meditate with all this noise. What is that racket?"

Nourma paused and thought. _The generator!_ She felt around on the floor again. Sure enough, there was a large accumulation of sand in the corners. She turned to Linus.

"Linus, I need your help."

"Oh, now you've decided to listen to me?"

"Is there a way to make a small cyclone of air? I need something to pick up the sand and bring it to that machine."

"That's simple enough," Linus responded. "You can just use an air swipe and blast the sand into the side."

"No, no, no." Nourma shook her head. "The sand needs to go somewhere small. It's a small opening, about the size of your fist."

Linus was silent for a moment. "There is a technique," he offered, "but it's quite advanced. It will take a while to learn."

"If you're as good a teacher as you think you are, this should be easy."

Linus thought to himself, _you are the first Airbender Avatar, a wise, distinguished master with thousands of years of experience. How did you end up trapped with an impertinent girl in a smelly, noisy, dark hole?_

He sighed and grinned. "Let's begin."

* * *

Dashtu walked up the gangway along the sand cruiser. He checked the blower, which provided a steady stream of wind to power the cruiser. The machine was running smoothly, its gentle whirring disturbed only by the occasional lowing of the dromedary tethered near the stern. It was the middle of the night and all the crew were asleep, save for the rudderman steering the ship steadily towards Ky Shek. They were traveling along the crest of a continuous dune, and the ride was smooth. It would have been peaceful if it were not for the steadily increasing wind blowing loose sand onto the deck. Dashtu looked up towards the bow. Ali was standing there, looking forward, as he had been ever since the cruiser had started. Dashtu walked up and stood beside his brother. There was a long silence.

"I suppose you're wondering why I did that." Ali said finally. Dashtu did not respond.

"Look, this is bigger than her. Bigger than us. This is for the Tribe!" Ali blurted.

Dashtu said softly, "I don't understand."

"I don't expect you to," Ali responded, "but you're seventeen. You need to learn how the world works!"

Dashtu smirked. Ali was only two years older than him. "And you know how it works." he stated mockingly.

Ali whipped around and bared his teeth. "Don't lecture me! I am the future of this family! I am the future of the Umara! You would be nothing if it weren't for me!"

Dashtu shrank back; he had pushed Ali too far. Dashtu knew the truth: Ali, being only the third eldest of Fatima's children, would not be the future of the family or of the tribe. But it would do no good to remind him of that. He had seen Ali's rages, what he had done to that poor camel-ox. "Sorry," he mumbled.

Ali threw a heavy arm around Dashtu's shoulders. "I forgive you, brother. Here, let me explain." He moved his other arm in a great sweep, highlighting the moon-lit desert passing under the cruiser.

"The Umara tribe has been blessed, Dashtu, with an extraordinary opportunity. Ky Shek is the jewel of the desert. It has electricity, plumbing, roads, and cars. We are a great people. Yet constantly, we have to treat other tribes as if they were our equals. The Hami, the Xiang, the Pudu; these dirty, backwater tribes, are they our equals?" Dashtu shook his head slowly.

"We'd be doing them a favor to share our bounty with them. Our technology, our culture; wouldn't it be a better place if everyone could live like we do?"

"I suppose," Dashtu said, "but what does cousin Nourma have to do with it?"

"Nourma will used, for the greater good. She'll be fine: we'll keep her safe, away from her family. But the Hami tribe will have no choice but to attack us to get their daughter back. And then," he smiled, "we'll push back, take over their tribe, and share the benefits. No one gets hurt." Ali turned and looked at Dashtu. "This is the right way; the only way."

"But Mother…" Dashtu began.

"Mother will have no choice but to see things my way, once this is all done." Ali turned back towards the bow, heedless of the blowing sand. "She'll even thank me afterwards. You'll see, Dashtu, this will all work out perfectly."

The blower stopped. The cruiser ground to a halt. Ali and Dashtu looked towards the stern of the ship. The rudderman called out, "the generator's stopped working, sir. I'll go below and check it out."

Ali grimaced and ground his teeth. He grabbed a nearby electric lantern and stomped towards the entrance of the dark hold. Dashtu followed a few paces behind.

* * *

Nourma let out a silent cheer. It had taken a while to learn the technique, but under Linus' tutelage she quickly mastered the air sphere. Then, little by little, she transported the piles of sand up and through the bars towards the nearby generator. She was familiar with the mechanism (a standard Future Industries P-115, identical to the one in her village), and Nourma knew the intake manifold would be on the right side, about halfway up. In tiny increments, the sand went down the manifold and into the engine. Each of Nourma's successful deposits was rewarded by a slight worsening of the grinding gears. At last the motor gave a plaintive wail and spun to a halt.

It was at this point that Nourma realized she didn't know what to do next. "Linus!" she hissed, "what now?"

"Now we wait," Linus said calmly, "for the opportunity to present itself."

Nourma was inclined to heap scorn on that suggestion, but seeing as she had no alternative, she sat down and waited.

The hatch door was flung open from above. Dim moonlight streamed in, the first light Nourma had seen in hours. She lay down on the floor and feigned sleep, watching through half-closed eyes.

A man came down the steps and approached the generator, fiddling with the buttons. He was followed by Ali, who was holding a lantern and, Nourma noticed with apprehension, a sheathed scimitar on his belt. Ali came to Nourma's cell and shined the light in. Nourma kept still. Ali snorted and turned back towards the generator. Other men, roused from their slumber, began crowding into the hold, opening panels, diagnosing the broken hardware.

"Sand in the manifold, sir," one of them announced, "I rekon it'll take about two hours to clean out."

Ali cursed and started to pace from one corner of the dark hold to another. Nourma observed the crowded cleaning of the generator and recognized a face. Dashtu. She groaned inwardly. Nourma could fathom Ali's betrayal, but Dashtu was always kind to Nourma, if a little shy. It hurt her to see him involved in this nefarious business.

Nourma heard Ali mutter something and then declare: "This is taking too long. I will ride ahead with the girl to Ky Shek; the rest of you stay here. Prepare my camel-ox." Nourma's heart leapt: this was her chance to escape! But her spirits fell when, before one of Ali's men had unlocked her door, Ali called out, "Watch out, she's faking being asleep."

The ruse over, Nourma opened her eyes fully and sat up, glaring at Ali. Ali glared back. A group of men clustered around the door. The key was inserted. "Don't worry Nourma," Dashtu said in a conciliatory voice, "we're not going to harm you." _No_ , Nourma thought, _but I am going to harm you_. She drew a deep breath. The key turned.

Drawing her hands up her sides and shooting them out in front of her, Nourma sent out a blast of air that sent the door swinging open and scattering the men behind it. The lanterns fell to the ground, casting the hold into darkness again, punctuated by tiny illuminated surfaces of yellow light. Planting her left fist on the ground, she spun from a sitting position to a crouched stance, sending a slice of air through the bars. She ran and used the right side of the door frame to pivot and slide through the narrow gap between the generator and the bars, stumbling over prostrate bodies. Nourma could feel a draught of warm air blowing in from her left, signaling the exit to the deck.. She heard moaning and scrambling behind her. She turned and sent a wall of air behind her, blowing her pursuers back. Nourma raced up the creaking steps and emerged onto the deck. She was immediately engulfed in a maelstrom of blowing sand.

* * *

Ali was shocked to see his cousin suddenly perform Airbending attacks, and he quickly dove behind the generator to escape the blasts. While hiding, his surprise turned to hateful rage. When he heard Nourma escape up the stairs, he touched the scimitar at his side and raced after her, ignoring the cries of the people he stepped on. Upon reaching the upper deck, he felt the sandy winds abrase his cheek, and he winced from the pain. Ali regretted his decision to wear his courtly purple silk robes, instead of the thick brown robes better suited for the desert. Putting a hand up to his eyes, he peered into the dull light of the coming dawn and saw a shadow in the swirling sands. Nourma.

Ali unclipped his scimitar from his belt and swung the sword, still sheathed, at Nourma's turned back. Midswing, Ali saw Nourma jerk, as if startled, and duck. The scimitar whistled over Nourma's head. She rolled to the right and thrust her arms out while crouching. Ali could see the air attack as it pushed the sands out of its path. He dodged the oncoming rails of wind and swiped at Nourma's legs. Nourma put her hands by her feet and thrust herself into the air, barely avoiding the sheath. Ali brought the scimitar down with a vicious chop, but before the blow could land, he felt the rush of wind blow him across the deck.

The sandstorm continued, unabated. Ali rose and groped for his sword. The growing light now gave a thick yellow hue to the wall of sand, but Nourma was nowhere to be seen. Then Ali heard the panicked bellowing of his camel-ox at the stern of the cruiser. He ran towards the sound. There, behind the steering port, he could espy a bent shape mounting the beast. Ali cried out in rage. Nourma gave the camel-ox a slap on the rump, and the frightened animal began to run, its hooves scrambling on the accumulated sand. Ali gave a desperate lunge at the escapee and felt his sheathed point connect with something solid. Nourma screamed in pain, and Ali smirked. He followed them down to the main deck and saw his camel-ox jump over the side. Ali ran to the edge. The drop was only a short distance, as a result of the sand drift. He heard the dull thumping of the hooves as ox and rider disappeared into the gloomy winds. Ali stood peering into the storm for a long while, hands clenched on the guard rail. To follow her into the storm was to share her same deadly fate. Ali turned away. "Stupid girl," he muttered.

* * *

The generator was cleaned and fixed in three hours. Ali brooded in a corner at the delay, while Dashtu brooded in another corner and tried to hide his tears from his brother. Nourma's previous visits to Ky Shek had been too infrequent for Dashtu and Nourma to become friends, but she was family, however distant. Dashtu remembered the first time he saw Nourma. They were both five years old, and it was her first trip outside her village. Everyone cooed at her shocking silver hair, but Dashtu was entranced by her eyes. They seemed to contain shards of green glass, swirling with infinite permutations, occasionally seeming to catch the glow of some hidden light. But now Nourma was lost, and Dashtu would have to explain himself to his mother. He shuddered.

The sandstorm stopped soon after arriving in Ky Shek, its furious black cloud retreating slowly to the south. Residents of the city began shoveling the drifts of sand, clearing paths under the rising sun. Wealthier residents hired teenage Earthbenders, who simply pushed the accumulations away with a few motions.

Ali strode into Fatima's council room and gave a short bow. Dashtu followed a few paces behind.

"I'm sorry, mother, but we failed," Ali began. Fatima raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Ali continued. "We found Nourma, wandering the dunes, but she refused to come with us. We had to restrain her and take her against her will, for her own protection. But while we were traveling through the sandstorm, she escaped somehow, and ran into the storm. We couldn't find her. She must have perished." At this, Fatima's eyes grew wide, and Dashtu could see her sorrow. But Ali pressed on. "There's something else."

Dashtu cast his gaze downward. They had rehearsed this part during the journey, and Ali had assured him that this was the only way to turn the tragedy into opportunity. Dashtu heard Ali say, "Nourma, when we restrained her, grew quite upset, and started to say some shocking things."

Fatima looked at Ali quizzically. "What sort of things?"

"She said that we would pay for our crimes. That she had a new power, and would use it to destroy the other tribes and rule the desert."

"And you believed her?"

Ali made a pained face. "At first, no. She couldn't even Earthbend; she was an embarrassment to her tribe. But during her escape, she attacked us…" Ali paused for effect, "...with Airbending!"

Fatima's eyes grew wide again, this time with surprise. She cast her gaze at Dashtu. "Is this correct, Dashtu? Nourma used Airbending?"

Dashtu met her gaze. "Yes, mother. Nourma attacked me and Ali with air. I felt the blasts myself." It was not a lie, technically, but Fatima continued to look at him, brow furrowed.

Ali, wanting to distract Fatima, blurted out: "It's clear that the Hami tribe is looking to take over the Umara tribe using this unnatural power." He stepped forward, voice pleading. "We must put a stop to them, before they destroy everything. For their own good." Fatima shifted her gaze from Dashtu to Ali. At first, Dashtu could see blazing anger in her eyes, but it was soon replaced with her normal steely glare.

"Yes," she said, "the time has come for this sad tale to come to an end. I cannot allow this threat to continue unchecked. I must put a stop to it, for good."

She instructed Ali and Dashtu to prepare five sand cruisers and forty soldiers to move on the Hami village. "I will go with you and see this done personally." She stood up. "For the Umara."

"For the Umara."

* * *

The wind was lessening, and Nourma was able to see a little farther through the howling sands. Her further sight did not give her hope, however. She had barely survived the desert in calm conditions; in a sandstorm there was no hope. The camel-ox she was riding seemed to know this: its steps were labored and plodding. Her legs were pressed up the malnourished creature's jutting ribs, and served only to compound Nourma's sorrow. Nourma's own ribs still stung from Ali's blow, and she drew pain with every breath. She suddenly felt light-headed: besides the strip of jerky in the cruiser, she had not eaten in two days. "Linus," she croaked, "help."

There was silence for a long time. "I'm sorry," Linus answered slowly, "I don't know what to do here. You just have to go on, and hope." He chuckled. "Those were some moves back there! You should have seen the looks on their faces." Linus paused. "You would have made an excellent Airbender."

Nourma recognized Linus' choice of words and began to sob, unsuccessfully trying to hold back tears. Linus stammered, "I mean...it's not like that...you see…"

The camel-ox's front left hoof sank into a hidden hollow, and Nourma tumbled listlessly into the sand. She lay there, unmoving, feeling the grains on her fingers, and the blowing wind rippling her robe. The hollow was expanding, and the sand was flowing into the rapidly growing sinkhole.

"It's okay, Linus," Nourma murmured, "I'm ready. I'm an Airbender now."

"No!" Linus cried out, "don't give up! You're not an Airbender yet! You still have to learn, um, the Flying Lemur-Monkey and, ah, the Spiral Cyclone. You can't…" his voice broke. "You can't leave me."

Nourma gave him a weak smile. She was waist deep in the sand. The camel-ox was floundering, trying to get free from the sinkhole. Nourma gathered her strength and punched both of her fists into the sinkhole, blasting the hapless creature towards the edge of the falling sand. The camel-ox found its footing, and clambered out of danger. It trotted a few steps, and turned to look back with docile eyes. Nourma slipped under the sand.

She fell a short distance and landed on a soft dune, sand pouring on her hood. Nourma looked around in surprise. The lantern sitting on a nearby rock cast warm light throughout the grotto. Nourma stood up and walked out from under the falling grains, brushing the sand from her robe. She recognized the place as her secret hideout, where she used to come and escape from the desert sun and responsibilities. There was the polished onyx stone she found, years ago. There was the bleached shark skull, with serrated teeth as big as her fist. There was, inexplicably, a satchel and a two canteens. And next to them, peacefully sleeping on a woven mat, there was Mehdi.

* * *

There was no hope, now. Aisha knew that, in her heart, but she was going through the motions, keeping herself busy, as if pointless action could keep at bay the precarious wall of grief that threatened to come crashing down.

Pasha's search party had returned after a fruitless day of desperate searching. He had stayed just long enough to refuel and restock the sand cruiser, and was now scouring the harsh desert sands.

Aisha had radioed the other tribes, and they were searching as well. Aisha's sister, Fatima, had dedicated all of her considerable resources to the search. Fatima had promised to keep Aisha updated, but Aisha had not heard from her sister for several hours.

Worst of all, Nourma's friend Mehdi had run off, presumably in search of Nourma. Now there were two missing children, and another grieving family. Aisha had gone to comfort Mehdi's mother and father, so that together they could cling to the small scraps of hope. But that was before the sandstorm.

Sandstorms were a regular occurrence in the Si Wong desert. If a person had the protection of sturdy walls and a little water to moisten their parched throat, then the storm was a mild annoyance. But to the unlucky traveller caught in the open, a sandstorm was a death sentence. They became lost, wandering in circles, and the blowing sand hastened the onset of dehydration. Before the storm, there was the possibility of rescue. After the storm, there was only retrieval.

Aisha heard the sand cruisers enter the village square, and together with Mehdi's parents, she went out into the midday sun. The cruisers were from the Umara tribe, and hope leaped in Aisha's throat. But when she saw Fatima come slowly down the ramp, and beheld her weary face, the last hope left her and she fell to the ground, weeping. Her sister knelt and embraced her, slowly rocking in a futile attempt to console. Behind her, Mehdi's parents wept and held each other. Aisha was dimly aware of Fatima's guards slowly gathering around her.

Fatima lifted Aisha to her feet. "You remember my sons," she said softly. Ali and Dashtu stood nearby, awkwardly, looking at the ground.

"Of course," Aisha managed to say through the tears. She hugged the two boys, each taller than her. "Ali and Dashtu. I'm so sorry." She stepped back and looked at them. Dashtu was fighting back tears, and Ali's face was a mask of pity and condolence. Ali opened his mouth to speak. Fatima spoke first.

"Ali killed your daughter."

Everyone froze. Aisha was too shocked to speak. Ali's face changed from confusion, to fear, to anger. He lunged at Fatima. The guards on either side of him restrained the attack and forced Ali to his knees. One of them unsheathed his scimitar. Dashtu took a step forward, but was stopped by an icy glare from his mother.

Fatima spoke low and fast into her sister's ear. "He came to me saying he found Nourma wandering the desert. He says she escaped and ran off. But I could see the lie in his eyes. He had some part to play in her death, whether through action or inaction." One of the guards gave the sword to Fatima, who presented it to Aisha. "By the law of the desert, his life is yours. Do with it what you will."

Aisha wrapped her fingers around the hilt. She knew her sister, and knew that she never lied, ever. She walked slowly towards the kneeling Ali, dreading every step. "Tell me, nephew," she hissed through gritted teeth, "does your mother speak true?"

In desperation and terror Ali blurted out, "No, no, she lies! I swear it!" He continued babbling. But Aisha had seen his face. Ali wore the guilt of Nourma's death, and it showed in his eyes. Deep inside Aisha, she knew that she could not harm Ali, who she had held as a baby, and watched grow from a toddler to a man. But then those same maternalistic thoughts gave rise to memories of Nourma: her first words, her first steps, her irrepressible joy. It was unfair, Aisha thought, that her precious daughter, her only child, should be taken forever from the world. Her knuckles whitened on the scimitar, and the red wrath took her. She raised the sword up high. Ali glared back with defiant rage.

"No!" a voice cried out.

The familiar voice penetrated through the irrational hatred, and found the dying ember of hope deep within Aisha. She looked up. She could see two figures, blurry through the tears, but Nourma's platinum hair shone through.

Aisha choked out a sob. The scimitar tumbled out of her hands and landed heavily in front of the prostate Ali. There was a joyous cry behind Aisha, as Mehdi's parents recognized their son. Together, with halting steps, the three of them ran towards their children and embraced them. And at the joyful confluence of love lost and love returned, they wept as one.

* * *

Worried recriminations followed, and Mehdi and Nourma told their stories in the shade of the courtyard on plush silk pillows. How Nourma had run off, how she had survived the night, how Ali had struck her, bound her, and kidnapped her. She had escaped into the storm with the camel-ox, and had come across her hidden grotto, where Mehdi had assumed she would be. They reunited, and, their energy bolstered with Mehdi's food and water, rode the camel-ox back to the village. Nourma did not tell anyone about her visions of Linus, besides, she had not seen him since she slipped under the sand. When the story was finished, Aisha hugged her daughter tightly. Fatima sat back and looked at Nourma closely, knowing that the fate of her sons, currently being guarded outside, still had to be decided.

"Well," she said after a pause, "it seems to me that Ali is still guilty, and perhaps Dashtu as well. I denounce Ali, and cast him out of the Umara tribe. Dashtu I will deal with personally, but Ali's fate is yours, Nourma."

Aisha looked back at her sister and clicked her tongue angrily. "Shame," she said, "don't put that responsibility on my little girl!"

Nourma detached herself from her mother. "It's alright, mama." She stood up. "I don't want to kill Ali. I don't want anyone to hurt him. Or Dashtu either. I won't have anyone die for me. It's not the right way." She looked at Fatima. "Would sending him away work?"

Fatima sighed. "Perhaps. Maybe banishment is for the best. I wish you could have chosen a firmer way, but that is your decision." Aisha squeezed Nourma's hand.

"It is," Nourma replied, and she felt as if Linus would approve. For the first time in hours, she smiled. Then they all started at the sound of a wheezing, ailing sand cruiser coasting to a stop outside. They heard Pasha's voice outside: "Any news? What did I miss?"

* * *

After another joyful reunification, and a celebratory dinner, Fatima and the Umara departed from the village. Dashtu and Ali were bound below decks. Midway between the Hami village and Ky Shek, the convoy of cruisers stopped. Ali was unbound and given two days supply of food and water. He mounted his camel-ox. Fatima held the reins.

"You are hereby banished from the Si Wong desert. You may not seek refuge with any tribe, and no refuge will be given. The Serpent's Pass is a two day ride west. Go now."

Looking towards the horizon, Ali struggled to keep his voice calm. "So much for family, eh, mother?"

Fatima replied levelly: "You yourself turned your back on your family. But more importantly, you turned your back on your tribe, and your honor."

Ali turned to Fatima and furiously hissed, "I have more honor than you can possibly understand!" He whipped the reins out of his mother's hands and started forward. "But you're too blind to see that," he muttered.

Dashtu watched impassively from the cruiser as his brother rode to the horizon, a dark silhouette against a setting sun.


	4. Old and New Players

BOOK ONE: VOID

CHAPTER FOUR: OLD AND NEW PLAYERS

It was a tough job, but someone had to do it Xiang Xi put his rough hands to the rougher rock face and closed his eyes. Xi had a special ability among Earthbenders: the ability to see where earth wasn't. It was derided as a useless skill for years, until an enterprising woman in the mining business recognized that people with this talent were uniquely situated to find deposits of black ore.

Black ore. The lifeblood of nations. As population in civilized areas trebled, villages grew into towns, towns into cities, cities into metropolises. Plentiful and free spirit energy powered the main power grid and the connecting monorail, but vehicles and generators needed refined ore to run. And so, as cars and trucks and ships and planes multiplied across the globe, the mining industry struggled to keep up with demand. Black ore was scattered in small deposits around the world, and Xiang Xi was currently working at a hopeful find somewhere in the rocky foothills between the desert and the sea.

He could feel an absence behind the rock. Probably a narrow vein. Xi planted his feet and crouched in a ready stance. He drove his fist into the rock face, and earthbent out a large section of useless stone.

Xi stepped forward to feel again. The ore had to keep flowing, so the money could keep flowing; that's what the bosses said. Xiang Xi didn't see much of that money, just a few yuan a week to send back to his family in Ba Sing Se. Now that Xi had a steady job, his wife and three children could move out of the slums and into a one room apartment. It wasn't much, but a roof and floor and four walls were six surfaces more than Xi's family had two months ago. He smiled and put his hands to the rock again.

That wasn't right. There was nothing there. Xiang Xi withdrew his hands and shook them. Was there something wrong with his bending? The hands felt the stone again. Xi could feel the wisps of rock in a sea of nothingness. No, not nothing. He grabbed at the rock, bending away pieces, gradually exposing a mural of shiny, smooth blackness. Xi stood back and looked at his dark reflection, refusing to believe.

There was a sharp crack. Xiang Xi looked up. The rock face high above him had splintered. The wall of stone fractured and began to sag. Xi yelled to his partner working at the far end of the rift: "Get back, it's coming down!" They both ran as the rocks began to fall. The soft slate threw up clouds of chalky dust, and the thunderous avalanche echoed throughout the canyon.

Once they were a safe distance away, they stood back and looked. The rockfall had exposed a huge deposit, fathoms wide and fathoms high, of black ore. Xi and his partner looked at each other and laughed.

"Have you ev'r heard of a find this big?" his partner asked.

"No, never," Xiang Xi replied, wiping tears from his eyes. "You'd better call the boss."

His partner whooped. "We're gonna be rich!" she cried.

Xi nodded, and gave thanks for escaping the falling rocks. He had learned long ago that the movement of a few small stones could precipitate a mighty cataclysm that could shake the foundations of the earth.

* * *

Nourma was an Airbender. Mehdi had told Aisha, and Aisha had told Pasha, and Pasha called Nourma into his study. It was three days after Nourma returned to the village, and her parents would have grounded her, but Nourma initiated a self-quarantine. Indeed she had not left the house, and almost constantly stayed by her parents' sides. She sat down next to her father and hugged him.

Pasha returned the hug. "Nourma," he said after a while, "why didn't you tell us you had this special power?"

Nourma drew away. "Who told you?"

"That Mehdi boy," Pashta answered. "But he was worried about you, and he only told your mother so she could help find you." He smiled and ran his hand through Nourma's hair. "We're not disappointed. Your mother and I are very proud of you. Our family's first Airbender!"

Nourma relaxed. It seemed that Mehdi had only told Aisha about her bending air, not fire. There was still hope. "So," she hazarded, "I'm still part of the tribe?"

Pasha enveloped Nourma in another hug. "Of course you are. You will always be my daughter, no matter what."

"So I still get to be chieftain?"

Pashta stiffened. Nourma looked up at her father and saw the hesitation in his face. Nourma dropped the loving tone. "What," she snapped, more accusation than question.

Her father sighed. "Nourma, you have an incredible talent. Besides your unique bending, you are bright and strong. This village is too small for you."

Nourma stood up and started pacing. "Don't I get to decide that?" she yelled. "I've never wanted anything more than to live here, with you, with the tribe!" She turned to Pasha, tears in her eyes. "And now that I'm an Airbender, you want to kick me out!" Nourma could feel the anger slowly welling in her breast, a painful knot that threatened to rise up and explode out of her. She feared the rage and the terrible visions it would bring. With a great force of will, she swallowed and breathed in a deep, labored breath.

Pasha stood and went to Nourma, rubbing her arms. "You can still decide," he soothed, "but I want to give you all the opportunities available to you. There's a school up north, just for Airbenders. Will you come with me and check it out?"

Nourma wiped away her tears. The rage was receding, slowly being replaced by lukewarm acceptance. "Okay, I'll come with you. But it won't change my mind."

Pasha gave a kindly smile and pulled his daughter to his chest.

"I don't want to go out into the world alone," murmured Nourma.

"No," said Pasha, "not alone."

* * *

Mehdi was reading alone in his room. The village had few scrolls to read, but he was a slow reader, sounding out one character at a time. He had almost reached the conclusion of the story when he heard a voice outside his window.

"You little viper-rat."

He looked up to see Nourma climb in from the night. She walked to the bedside and loomed over Mehdi. He put away the scroll and sat up.

"You told my parents about what happened?" Nourma hissed.

"Okay, first of all, I only told your mother. You were missing. You ran away." Mehdi stood up to face Nourma. "And, by the way, you're welcome. For oh, just saving your life!"

"Did you tell her about the firebending?" she asked desperately.

"Well...no," Mehdi replied sheepishly. "To be honest, I had forgotten about that."

He saw Nourma's face redden, and he glimpsed the hurt and pain in Nourma's eyes, and he realized that she wasn't mad at him. Nourma was angry at herself. Mehdi couldn't fathom why, but he had no time to think on it, for she interrupted his thoughts by delivering a soft punch to Mehdi's shoulder. In the adolescents' parlance, this meant _thank you_. Mehdi reciprocated with a punch of his own: _you're welcome_.

They both sat down on the bed. "Anyway," Nourma said after an awkward pause, "I guess this is goodbye, for now." Mehdi cocked his head quizzically. Nourma continued. "My parents are taking me to visit some Airbender school."

"Yes," Mehdi interjected, "in Republic City."

Nourma threw up her hands. "Great spirits," she exclaimed, "is nothing secret?"

Mehdi chuckled. "I only know because I'm coming with you."

"No you're not," Nourma stated, enunciating each word

"Ah, c'mon," Mehdi protested, "don't leave me here alone. Do you know how boring this village is without you? I'd rather kiss a sand-shark than listen to another one of Old Man Wu's made up stories." Mehdi also wanted to add that Pasha had already invited him on the trip, but something told him Nourma would not like that little tidbit.

Nourma relented. "Alright," she said, "we'll go together. But…" she jutted out her chin defiantly, "we are not staying there!"

Mehdi shrugged. "No worries there. How great can Republic City be?"

* * *

The towers of steel and glass rose impossibly high above the ribbons of asphalt, reflecting the cold, grey sky. Jagged snow capped peaks created a chaotic background for the neat, orderly city. Ships in the crowded harbor carried goods from all over the planet: juicy raspberries from the Fire Nation, magnificent gems from the Northern Ridge, luxurious polar-penguin pelts from the Southern Water Tribe, and tankers of refined ore to keep the wheels of commerce running. The living metropolis pulsed with an energy not found anywhere else, a synergy of machine and man, of nature and technology, of metal and vine.

Nourma had visited Republic City as a child, but all she remembered was the cold. The cold was still present, but it was tempered with the warm thrill she felt as she craned her neck upward to gawk at the rising edifices. Mehdi walked beside her, taking in the foreign sights, the sounds of constant traffic, and the smells of twenty different cuisines all on the same block.

Pasha and Aisha, accompanied by Mehdi's parents, followed a few paces behind. They had been to Republic City three times before, their last visit only five years ago, but even they marveled at all the changes since then. The suburban bed-and-breakfast they had stayed in had been replaced with a towering hotel, surrounded by similar skyscrapers. The whole city was growing, always reaching higher, always building newer, leaving the old places in shadow.

Located on a small island in the middle of the harbor, the Airbending Academy was in stark contrast to the rest of the metropolis. The squat stone buildings were drab, but the people rushing back and forth in the courtyard were vibrant. They were wearing robes that reminded Nourma of Linus' garb, and some people even had a similar blue tattoo, culminating in a large arrow on their foreheads, pointing down. Most Airbenders were walking, but as Nourma looked up, she could see two people in wingsuits using some sort of air manipulation to fly like squirrel-bats above the island. Nourma's heart flew with them, and a part of her hoped against her pessimism that one day she would be able to take to the skies.

After asking around, they were finally directed to a lonely building containing a desk attended by a boy younger than Nourma reading a magazine. Pasha strode up.

"Excuse me, my daughter just found out that she's an Airbender. Can she get a tour of the school?"

The boy sighed, and without looking up from his reading, slid a piece of paper across the desk. Pasha opened his mouth as if to speak, then shook his head and gave the paper and a pencil from his pocket to Nourma. Nourma looked at the form. It asked her name, age, place of birth, date of first airbending, previous airbending training, and dietary restrictions. She started to fill it out, leaving out the training she had received from Linus.

Mehdi emerged from behind his parents and addressed the reading attendant. "Hey, I don't know if you know any jobs around here. I mean, for people who can't…"

At the word "can't" the boy's eyes shot open, and he threw away his magazine. "You're not an Airbender?"

Mehdi nodded.

"And you want to work here?"

Another nod.

The boy whooped. "Of course there are jobs here! Non-Airbenders that assist Airbenders are called Air Acolytes. There are four Acolytes on this island, and three hundred Airbenders! It's horrib…" he looked at Mehdi, "it's great! Here, follow me. Let's get you some robes, and I'll show you around the place." He draped his arm around Mehdi and led him out of the building.

Nourma called after him: "Who do I give the form to?"

"To me," answered a voice behind them. They turned and saw a woman with an Airbender tattoo, which was almost covered by dark, curly hair. She took the form, put it within the folds of her robe, and gave Nourma a warm smile. "A new Airbender?" she asked.

"Yes," answered Nourma cautiously, "but I probably won't go here."

The woman laughed kindly and said, "I think I know where you're coming from. You think that being an Airbender will separate you from your family. I thought that too, once." She took Nourma's hand. "But you will grow closer with your family, I promise, while gaining a new family. An Airbender family." Nourma looked skeptical, but the woman just tilted her head and smiled again. "Come, let me show you and your parents around the Academy. My name is Opal. What's your name?"

"Nourma, daughter of Pasha and Aisha, future chieftain of the Hami tribe."

Aisha clicked her tongue, warning Nourma to watch hers. Nourma face reddened, but Opal ignored Nourma's proud tone. "Nourma. That's a lovely name." She led them back out to the courtyard.

"This school has been active for over ninety years," Opal said. "It started with one student, but now the Academy has almost three hundred Airbenders in training. We try to mix the ancient traditions of isolation, learning, and meditation with the new…" she searched for the right word, "...realities of a modern world. This Academy is like a chimera."

"What's a chimera?" Nourma inquired. Mehdi's and Nourma's parents were glad she was the one to ask that question. They felt ignorant enough in this alien city.

"A chimera is a combination of two animals," Opal answered evenly. "Like the head of a lion-fox on the body of an eagle-stallion."

They passed an open door. Inside, Nourma could see at least twenty students practicing calligraphy. She scowled. Aisha had tried to teach Nourma the art of writing characters, but Nourma's hand was never steady enough. After two lessons, Aisha had abandoned the endeavor.

Opal spoke again. "Tell me Nourma, when were you born?"

"Exactly A.E. 0," Pasha answered proudly, "on the night of the aurora. We like to think the entire world was celebrating the birth of our little daughter." He squeezed Aisha's hand. Nourma rolled her eyes.

"The entire world was celebrating," Opal replied, diplomatically. "We have many students who were born that night. You see, during the Great War, almost all the Airbenders were wiped out. That night, the world restored the balance. It gave airbending abilities to many non-benders across the globe." She paused and smiled. "Even me."

Nourma stopped. "You?" She attempted to word her question in a way that would not yield a reprimand from her mother. "You were born that night too?"

That earned her a glare from Aisha and a hearty laugh from Opal. "No, no," she said, wiping away tears. "I didn't explain properly. I was sixteen on that night. I was a non-bender in a proud family of Earthbenders. But much to their, and my, surprise, I started airbending. And I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world."

Nourma felt comforted. It seemed her new ability wasn't as strange as it seemed. But she wanted answers about her firebending too. She thought of a line of inquiry that wouldn't give away her secret.

"The current Avatar, her name is Korra, right?" Nourma innocently asked.

"Yes, she's our Avatar. Korra is actually the person who taught me airbending."

"And the Avatar is the only person who can bend more than one element."

"That's correct. You'll learn why this is, and the entire history of the Avatar, should you decide to study with us."

Nourma returned to her haughty tone. "I don't know about that. My tribe is counting on me to be its chieftain one day."

Pasha opened his mouth to speak, but this time it was Aisha who squeezed his hand. Pasha snapped his mouth shut. Nourma was about to comment on this when Mehdi ran up, breathless, already dressed in the orange robes of an Acolyte.

"Mom! Dad! Nourma! They have showers for everyone here! Piped, hot water showers, every day! And they have fresh fruit and vegetables for every meal! There's a whole boat of fresh food that arrives from the city every midnight! Apparently I'll be unloading it, but that means I can save the best picks for me and you. And did I mention they have refrigerators so big you can walk into them? C'mon, I'll show you!" He grabbed Nourma's hand and led her across the courtyard and down into a dark, subterranean doorway.

"It seems Nourma's friend has taken a liking to this place," Opal said. "Although he might not be so enthusiastic after a week of Acolyte duties."

"Those two are inseparable," replied Mehdi's father, "and when they're together, their mischief triples."

Behind him and Opal, Mehdi's mother whispered to Pasha and Aisha. "You haven't told Nourma yet?"

"Not yet," Aisha said. "I'll talk to her. Tonight."

* * *

Aisha and Nourma strolled down the boardwalk, moving with the slow flow of the Republic City nightlife, hearing the waves slap against the shore stones. Pasha, Mehdi, and his parents were having dinner at Darye Iroh, which was reportedly the best tea-house in the city. Mother and daughter sat down at the next bench and stared at the bright lights across the water.

"How did you like the school?" Aisha asked, hiding the interest in her voice.

"It's alright…" Nourma replied automatically, looking at the view. To her, it was the most beautiful sight she had ever seen. The skyscrapers seemed to be jeweled lattices, casting their magnificent reflections across the rippling bay.

"Nourma, I want to talk to you," Aisha said. Nourma looked defiant at first, then adopted a receptive demeanor. Aisha took a deep breath and started her speech.

"Your father and I love you very much. When you were lost in the desert, we…" Aisha wiped a tear from her eye and continued, "we couldn't bear it. This is the hardest decision we have ever made. The reason why we don't want you to be chieftain, Nourma, is because soon there won't be a Hami tribe to lead."

Nourma looked at Aisha, shocked at the prediction. Aisha continued.

"Ever since the end of the Great War, people of the desert have been trickling to the cities. At first it wasn't so bad: maybe one or two families a year to find better jobs. But now with the monorails, people have been leaving in droves. When you were born, our village had around twenty-five hundred people. Now it has less than five hundred. When your father dies, the Hami tribe will probably be ten people just dredging the desert for sand shark bones. You would be the last chieftain; the tribe will have all moved to Ky Shek, or Ba Sing Se, or here."

Aisha turned to Nourma and grasped her hands.

"But now you have a gift. An incredible, amazing gift. And you have a chance to get out of the desert and have a better life, a far better life than we ever hoped for you. You can learn and grow and realize your true potential. We just want what's best for you."

Nourma was dumbfounded. She felt as if she had been blown from her safe and regular future and deposited on a harsh and foreign shore. Having her entire future swept away in a moment brought back the pain she had felt upon learning of her airbending powers. Her desert, her tribe, her family, that was Nourma's life, and now it was gone. Tears filled her eyes, and she looked out over the water. She saw in the midst of the city a golden column of light, reaching up, above the glow of the skyscrapers, into the dark, crisp night to touch the twinkling stars. The reflection of the luminous beam reached across the bay and seemed to lay itself at Nourma's feet, as if illuminating her path. She could see the way before her, to follow the shining light to the heavens far above. But the way was cold, and would require her to leave the warm and protecting presence beside her. She turned back to her mother.

"It's just that...I don't want to leave you and papa!" she blurted out.

Aisha embraced Nourma. "I know, I know," she cooed. "Pasha and I will miss you very much. But we'll be happy, because you will be growing. And I know you will be happy, maybe not at first, but someday. Mehdi will be here, and we will visit as much as we can."

Nourma dried her tears and spoke in a broken voice. "I know what I have to do. I...just need some time by myself."

Aisha hugged her daughter again and said, "I'll go back to the hotel and wait for you there. And know that whatever you decide, I still love you. And you will always be our daughter." She stood up and walked into the crowd.

It was just Nourma, alone, facing the big, loud, smelly city. She looked at the water, trying to control her emotions. She heard the fragments of nearby conversations: "...there's going to be an uptick in exports…" "...massive find in Suhyin Province, largest in history…" "...Song said that? Well, tell her…" Then Nourma heard a familiar voice, as dry as the desert where she first heard it: "...can't believe I'm stuck here again. This is getting quite ridiculous. All this newfangled...oh, hey, it's you!"

Nourma turned and saw an old man in outdated orange robes standing in the crowd, invisible to all others. "Linus," she whispered. She was incredibly relieved.

* * *

Private Choi stood at attention behind the seated General Won. When Choi had volunteered to be the General's aide, he imagined lavish dinners, pretty girls, and all the trappings of the City's high society. Instead, he found himself rising before dawn and retiring well after midnight. General Won kept an impossible schedule, and he expected his aides to share the burden. Choi only had time for quick meals of dry hardtack and a strip of bacon. Why, even his comrades at the training camp ate better that that! But the worst of it was the horrible woolen dress uniform. Choi had to stand motionless during the endless meetings, resisting the terrible urge to scratch the infuriating itches caused by the coarse fibers.

Today's meeting was about some big discovery down south that held no interest for Private Choi. What did hold his interest was the platter of delectable confections at the center of the polished oak table. The assembled generals, admirals, and chairpersons took their seats, while their aides remained standing, like columns around a dark pool.

The platter started to make its way around the table, with each of the seated participants taking a pastry. Someone, a civilian, started talking about a huge black ore find in the Earth Confederacy. The platter made its way under Choi's nose, and he could smell the delightful mix of berries and sugar. His stomach grumbled.

Now another person, some admiral with a chest full of medals, was discussing the implications of this find, something about "market share" and "demand". General Won selected a strawberry Nucka-rose with pink frosting, and passed the platter on. Choi's eyes followed it longingly.

Someone else was talking now about the United Republics' position. She unrolled a map across the table. Choi saw the thin crescent that comprised the Republics, squished between the massive Earth Confederacy and the ocean. She pointed at Republic City, about midway up the crescent, then at the ore find, at the southwestern corner of the Confederacy. She said words like "parity" and "scarcity". Choi eyed the platter. Everyone at the table had taken a piece, but the platter was still half full. Perhaps it would be possible to get some leftovers after the meeting.

Now everyone was talking, some in small groups, others to the table at-large. The platter started to make its way around again. There was a lot of talk of "safety" and "peace". The confectioneries continued to disappear at an alarming rate. Then the talk was of "security" and "mobilization". The platter now had only three pastries left. The conversations switched to "defense". Two pastries. Now there was discussion of "offense". One pastry left. Choi heard the words "pre-emptive" and "preventative", but he held his gaze on that last pastry, willing it to be untouched.

The word "war" was said. This caused a fierce discussion lasting several hours, but Private Choi stood still through all of it, bearing in silence the itchy wool and forcing his stomach not to growl. When the meeting finally adjourned, and people slowly filed out, the platter remained, containing only crumbs.


	5. Sword and Sworn Word

BOOK ONE: VOID

CHAPTER FIVE: SWORD AND SWORN WORD

Nourma was in trouble.

It was Linus' fault. He would occasionally appear next to Nourma during her classes. And since Nourma was the only one who could see or hear Linus, she was forced to hear his unbidden commentary on the subject.

Nourma was attending her afternoon history lecture. The instructor was an animated old man with a shiny bald head and a bushy white beard that seemed to point in every direction. All the attendees loved Sifu Noqtak's lectures. All of them, save for Linus.

"...so the Han dynasty started in the northern isles in the eighth century B.I." Sifu Noqtak continued, raising his hand above his head to emphasize "north". "It began as a group of peasants who rebelled against their local government, as a result of extremely high taxes." He raised his hand again to emphasize "high".

"Wrong," Linus muttered to Nourma, "it was actually a local magistrate forcing his peasants to rebel, in order to gain more power."

"Leave it, old man." Nourma muttered back.

"These rebels," Noqtak continued, "without formal military training, swept down from the north…" he swept his hand down, accidentally creating a gust of air, scattering the papers on his desk, "and marched into the heart of Shin territory, inspiring locals to their cause."

Linus spoke again to Nourma: "It was actually hired mercenaries that attacked the Shin dynasty, and it was less 'inspiring' and more 'terrorizing'."

"I don't care," growled Nourma, more warning than statement.

Noqtak, after making a vain effort to organize his papers, continued on: "The Han rebels surrounded the Shin capital…"

"Burned the Shin capital, more like it." Nourma ground her teeth.

"...and successfully ended the Shin dynasty, after twelve centuries of rule, and ushered in a new era of prosperity!" Noqtak ended his speech with a smack to his palm, inadvertently sending a blast of air into the empty first row. Students of Sifu Noqtak quickly learned to sit in the back of the lecture hall.

"Ridiculous!" snorted Linus, "the Han dynasty was just more of the same oppression. Honestly, where do they get these teachers?" Nourma balled her fists, trying to listen to the ongoing lecture and ignore Linus' rant. "I suppose they let anyone become an instructor, as long as you have the intellectual prowess of a mole-sloth!"

"Will you please SHUT YOUR MOUTH!" Nourma yelled out. Sifu Noqtak stopped his instruction and stared at Nourma. So did the entirety of the class.

Nourma's face reddened. She wanted to pull her hood over her head, but the orange and white robes of a novice Airbender uniform had no hood. She instead slouched into her chair, trying in vain to hide herself as the interrupting culprit. Linus opened his mouth to tell Nourma that she should learn to control her anger, but decided that now wasn't the time for that particular lesson.

* * *

Nourma's punishment for her outburst was to wash the dinner dishes that night. The dirty plates and utensils and pots and pans were a daunting challenge for a lone worker, and Nourma grumbled through the long hours.

"Am I interrupting?" asked a small voice from behind her.

Startled, Nourma whipped around and saw Sifu Opal standing in the doorway. Nourma lowered her eyes and said, "no, Sifu."

Opal moved beside Nourma and picked up a plate, still wet with suds. "I heard there was a disruption in class today."

Nourma went back to washing dishes, saying nothing.

"Is everything all right with your studies?" Opal asked.

"Yes, Sifu," Nourma intonned. The transition from her mother's casual instruction to formal schooling had been rough, and continued to be difficult, but Nourma relished at the opportunity to improve. One particular area of difficulty was Nourma's meditation, a requirement for Airbender students. She could never calm her mind; it was like calming a stormy sea.

Opal raised the dish and flexed her fingers, sending a sharp rush of air across the surface, blasting the suds and water away. "And your friends?"

"No, they're fine too," Nourma replies, softening her voice. Her and Mehdi differed sharply from the classmates who had been raised in the more cosmopolitan areas of the world. But they had quickly formed a clique with a brother and sister from a remote village in the Fire Nation, and together they were discovering and surviving the modernity of Republic City.

"Is it…" Opal paused, put away the clean dish, then rephrased her question, "do you miss your home?"

Nourma stopped washing. "Yes, of course…" she whispered. She missed her parents every day. She missed the desert, the village, and the simple way of life. "But that's not it…"

Opal blast-dried another plate and looked at Nourma, inviting her to share. Nourma decided to test the waters.

"Opal...has anyone ever been able to speak, and hear, and see…" she hesitated, "...a spirit?"

Opal smiled, struggling to contain her excitement. "A few people. Spirits are rare nowadays, and most avoid people. Are you saying you have seen a spirit?"

Nourma decided to tell her everything. "Yeah, I can see a spirit, sometimes. His name is Linus." At this, Opal let out a quiet gasp. "He says he's…"

"...the second Avatar!" Opal finished. She looked at Nourma and gave her a warm smile. Nourma smiled back. "Nourma, having this ability doesn't make you strange. You have a rare gift!" At this, Nourma remembered her unnatural ability to bend fire as well as air, and frowned, but Opal continued. "I wonder...would you be interested in coming to the University to speak with a friend of mine? If you can communicate with Avatar Linus...we can learn so much from him!"

Nourma grinned awkwardly. "Well, he does like to talk. In fact, all he does is talk. Yeah, we can do that."

Opal squeezed Nourma's shoulder affectionately. "Thank you. And thank you for telling me." She turned to leave.

"Sifu Opal?" Opal paused in the doorway, and Nourma gave her her best pouty eyes. "Does this mean I can stop washing dishes?"  
Opal laughed. "Nice try, Nourma. I'll see you tomorrow."

* * *

Dashtu was in trouble.

After they returned to Ky Shek, he was locked in his room for three days. He was given stale bread and dusty water, and he fumed in his isolation. On the third day, he heard the door open and saw a figure in the doorway.

It was Fatima.

Dashtu automatically stood up in the presence of his mother, and hated himself for showing respect. "Hello, mother," he spat, acidly.

Fatima walked slowly towards Dashtu with imposing steps and stared at him with an iron glare. Dashtu stared back defiantly. Then Fatima relaxed her face and sat down on the bed, motioning for Dashtu to join her.

"Please, son," she said with a conciliatory tone, "let us talk."

Dashtu remained standing. "The only thing to talk about is how you were going to kill Ali. How you were going to let your own son die."

Fatima looked down at the ground and spoke with a somber tone. "I was. And I would make that same decision today. It was the hardest choice I ever made, but spirits help me, I would make that same choice today."

Dashtu wheeled on her with savage triumph. "So you admit it! Family means nothing to you!"

Fatima quickly stood and fixed Dashtu with another angry glare. "Shame! Family means everything to me! Family is everything!" Her voice softened, and she laid a gentle hand on Dashtu's shoulder. "But, as leader of the Umara, I consider the entire tribe as my family. It is a responsibility that you will have to share, one day."

Dashtu slowly sat down on the bed. Fatima looked down on her son. "Ali was a threat; leave no doubt in your mind. He was a threat to you, to me, to the Umara, to the entire desert. I saw his mind, his intentions. He wants to control and conquer. Ali may think that he will help people by spreading our superior way of life, but all he would spread is destruction!

"The Umara symbol is two crossed swords. Our swords protect those under us. The weak, the helpless, those who cannot provide for themselves. But in order to protect those people, our swords must be ready to strike down anyone who is a threat to us. Ali was a threat, and that is why he is gone. We must help the weak, but we cannot help anybody if we ourselves are weak."

"Is this about Nourma?" Dashtu asked with a quiet voice. "Because Ali never hurt her. He tried to save her."

"I don't care about the Hami girl," said Fatima, "I care about the future of my tribe." She reached down and raised Dashtu's chin so that her son was looking at her eye to eye. "I care about you."

Dashtu's countenance wavered, and he stood up and embraced his mother. "I care about you, too."

Fatima stroked his hair. "I know. And I forgive you." She released him. "Do you swear to never again betray your family?"

Dashtu nodded slowly. "I swear it. For the Umara."

* * *

University Square stood in stark contrast to the sleek and polished towers of Republic City. Mehdi was used to the absence of nature in the city, but he was pleasantly surprised at the melding of architecture and greenery. The University of the United Republics was built on the edge of the massive Central Reserve, with the spirit vines overflowing the bounds of the reserve, draping themselves over the clean, columned buildings. The inner campus consisted of a courtyard laced with hardened vines, dead but preserved. Pathways cut through the tangle of vines, connecting the four main buildings: the departments of Political Thinking, Civics, Arts, and Industry. Mehdi, Nourma, and Opal made their way across the courtyard into the marbled foyer of the eastern building.

Mehdi was elated when Nourma made her decision to train as an Airbender; he was entranced by Republic City and its infinite experiences. Saying goodbye to his parents had been hard, more on them than him, but Mehdi viewed the move as a net positive. He radioed them during his scant free hours a week, but his mind was focused on his considerable duties. As one of four Acolytes supporting an Academy of two hundred ninety four students and eighteen teachers, Mehdi's days and nights consisted of running errands, delivering messages, and the all-encompassing "miscellaneous". He thanked the spirits that Airbender training involved students sweeping, mopping, and washing; he was spared that indignity.

So Mehdi eagerly accepted Sifu Opal's offer to accompany her and Nourma to the University. They were just about to ascend the alabaster staircase when they heard a commotion behind them.

"Yoohoo! Pardon? Are you Sifu Opal?"

The three orange-robed visitors turned and watched as a disheveled, bespectacled woman approached them. Opal gave a polite smile and said, "I am. Greetings. And you are…?"

"Professor Xuexi, former Director of Histories at Ba Sing Se University." She stuck out her chalk-covered hand. Opal gave a slight bow instead. Xuexi retracted her hand and wiped it on her side, leaving a white smudge on her green jacket. "I regret to inform you that Doctor Je Sig is unable to meet with you today. But I can take the witness' statement." She pointed to a small door at the bottom of the staircase that, in Mehdi's considerable recent experiences in such matters, looked like a broom cupboard. "In there will do. Sooner would be better."

"Xuexi!"

The three visitors turned again to see a dark haired man in a pristine white suit descending the staircase at an imposing pace. Professor Xuexi looked away and hissed through her teeth.

"You have been warned," the man said, "this is my research, not yours."

"It's not fair, Je Sig!" complained Xuexi, "I just need an oral history to complete my doctorate!"

"You had your chance," Je Sig retorted. "Remember that Water Tribe chieftain?"

"I remember you sending me off across some frozen wasteland to some backwards village that probably didn't exist in the first place." Xuexi whipped a pencil out of her tangled hair and pointed it accusingly at the figure a few steps above her. "And the Education Committee did not think my account of eating penguin-seal blubber for three days straight warranted a degree!"

"I apologize for my...eager...colleague," Je Sig said, motioning Opal, Nourma, and Mehdi onward, "the ex-director was just leaving." He shot an angry look over his shoulder as he ascended the stairs. Xuexi returned the glare, stuck her tongue out, and then scurried down the stairs and into a hallway on the right. Mehdi watched her go, grateful at the experience to witness the intricacies of a scholarly debate.

The Doctor, the Sifu, the Airbender, and the Acolyte piled into Je Sig's office and sat down around a regal desk in an cozy room lined with bookshelves overflowing with leather tomes. Je Sig gingerly took a cloth parcel from a drawer and unwrapped it on the desktop. It appeared to be a twisted piece of driftwood carved into a crude figure.

"This is one of my most prized relics," Je Sig said proudly. "This will help us summon Avatar Linus. I'm told it was a cherished possession of his."

"I've always hated that thing," said Linus, suddenly appearing beside Nourma. "Did they really keep that piece of junk around for millenia?"

"He says he hates that thing," repeated Nourma, untactfully. Je Sig's face fell.

Mehdi scanned the room excitedly. "Is he really here, in this room?"

Je Sig's face brightened. "This is great! The presence of an Ancient Avatar!" Then they heard a muffled voice below them, emanating from the ventilation duct.

"Oh, Great Avatar! Pray answer this humble doctoral candidate's inquiry! What effect did the local ruling warbands have on the cross-bending propagation of…"

"Xuexi!" Je Sig was startled from his awe. "This is highly inappropriate!" He took a stack of books and placed them over the duct. He pulled out a notebook and pen, and turned to Nourma. "Now Nourma, would you be so kind as to interpret Avatar Linus' sayings? Whatever he wants to talk about."

Linus stroked his chin. "Well, there is this one story…"

Nourma groaned. "I don't want to repeat what you say, word for word, like a parrot-seal!"

Opal placed her hand on Nourma's. "Please Nourma. This is important."

Linus chuckled. "Your teacher is right: I am important. But if that doesn't convince you, in return for doing this, I'll teach you a special bending ability." He raised his right hand. "Avatar Promise! Will that sway your cold heart? Now, let's begin…"

* * *

Linus was in trouble. He had disobeyed his master, Eru, and turned his back on his Airbending duties. He was alone, friendless, and in enemy territory. His attack on the warchief's sanctuary had been a huge blow for the bandits, but the remnants still roamed the dark woods as before: unchecked, preying on the weak. For all his effort, Linus had failed.

But he still retained an ember of dying hope. Linus could bend both air and water. He did not know of a single person in history that could bend more than one element. Linus had a special gift, and he reasoned that he should use it. But first he needed to master it. And that meant finding a Waterbender.

Linus heard that Waterbenders inhabited the coasts, so he made his way south. He travelled softly by night, following the Southern Bell, over fen and bog, until he heard the alien sound of waves crashing. The next morning, he came across a rocky shore and beheld the ocean for the first time. Linus was awestruck. The horizon seemed a yawning void; the ocean was a mysterious, infinite, unassailable mass. He licked his lips and tasted the tangy sea breeze. There were no Waterbenders in sight.

Linus wanted to retreat back to the safety of the trees, but he felt an intrinsic pull towards the water, towards the never ending waves. He approached cautiously, treading on the smooth stones. The waves rolled in and out, up and down, forwards and backwards. His arms began to unconsciously mimic the motion of the waves: extend, retract, extend, retract. After a while, the waves began to mimic the motion of his arms: they would rise a little higher, or retreat somewhat into the surf. Linus was elated; he was a Waterbender!

After a few days of travelling west along the coast, Linus heard the harsh sounds of human voices. He retreated to the treeline and approached the noises carefully. He saw a fishing crew gathered around a large sailboat, joking and laughing as they repaired their nets. Linus' heart leaped in joy and fear. These were Waterbenders! No other Firebender or Earthbender would travel willingly on the sea, so far away from their bending materials. Linus wanted to observe them, to see if they were friendly, but he never got the chance.

He felt the spearhead prod his back and heard a rough voice: "Well, wot 'ave we 'ere! A spy, fr'm the looks ov it!"

Linus was pushed from the shelter of the trees, eliciting concerned shouts, then laughs from the sailors. They all gathered to see the strange visitor. Linus stood tall and spoke with a loud voice.

"If you are friends to me, I will be your best companion! If you are my enemies, I will be your worst nemesis!" He spoke proudly, but he felt hollow. He knew he could not possibly take on all these people. The Waterbenders knew this as well, and laughed even harder.

Linus seized the moment of vulnerability and quickly turned and hit the spearwoman standing behind him with a blast of air. She fell back on the hard stones with a cry. Linus made four swift uppercuts, sending four slices of air towards the boat, blasting a few people back. He retreated a few steps to the forest and turned back, ready to send a wall of wind towards the remaining sailors. One of them stepped forward, aiming a drawn arrow at Linus.

"You be an Airbender, that's true enough. But thar be some ways to take down a wind-tosser. A shaft to the breast be one!"

Linus raised his hands, defeated. The Waterbenders started to move in. Then Linus noticed the lapping waves behind the bowman. A wild idea came to him. He crouched down into a wide stance, and shifting back with all his force, bent a surge of water towards the bowman. The wave only came up to his knees, but it was enough to send his arrow flying off course over Linus' head. Linus ran into the woods, ignoring a plaintive, solitary cry of "Wait!"

Linus ran and ran, trembling from excitement and fear. When he could run no more, he walked; and when he could walk no more, he slept. He was dispirited by the incident, but quickly resolved to find other, friendlier Waterbenders.

* * *

A few days later, while he was traversing an overgrown glade, Linus heard the braying of a trapped animal. He hurried towards the sound, and saw a cat-deer with its hind leg caught in a trap. Linus was moved to pity; the Airbender philosophy forbade the harming of animals. He stepped forward to free the creature. Suddenly, his legs were caught in a snare and were jerked up towards the canopy. Linus' head collided against something solid and his vision became blurry and unfocused. He felt rough hands grabbing and dragging him across the mossy ground. His hands and feet were bound, and Linus was deposited roughly against a gnarled tree.

Linus' sight slowly returned to him, but he did not relish the view. He was looking at the ugliest man he had ever seen. Age had twisted his face, making it wrinkled, furrowed, and covered in boils. But despite his looks, he was smiling, showcasing his few remaining teeth.

Linus attempted an air of bravado: "If you're going to kill me, get it over with soon. I can't stand your stench."

The old man burst into laughter. "You're not in a position to judge people on their odor, Linus!"

Linus shrank back, wary of this stranger's seeming clairvoyance. "How did you know my name?"

"It's sewn on your jacket." The old man pointed to the faded characters sewn in red stitching on Linus' Airbender uniform. Linus was harshly reminded of his lost comrades: he and Eru were all that remained from his squad. Eru had betrayed her Airbender principles, and Linus was a prisoner of a gang of bandits. However, Linus' melancholy mood was interrupted when the man continued, his grinning face turned somber.

"I can tell you're afraid, Linus. You can bend more than one element, and that frightens you. I don't know why you have this power. I have an idea why. I can help you. But first, I need you to promise me something. You need to swear to be just, to protect the innocent, to preserve balance. Swear to me, and I'll tell you everything."

Linus was filled with rage. He had been tied up, kidnapped, bludgeoned, and now this bandit had the audacity to question his honor. He sat up sharply and the angry words started to flow out of him, unhindered.

"No, you swear to me! All my life I've served the cause of justice. I've helped the poor and the defenseless. I kept them safe from people like you. My oath is reflected in my deeds and my actions. Ask one of the countless villagers I protected from your raiding parties! So no, I will not swear to you. You surround yourself with cutthroats and thieves and people who were prepared to kill me, and you're implying that I'm unjust? No. You will swear to me."

Linus sat back and breathed heavily, his head swimming. He noticed the ring of sailors standing around the glade. They were the same ragged bandits he had escaped from a few days ago, but they were no longer laughing.

The old man was taken aback. He shook his head a few times. "My apologies, Linus. I think we started on the wrong oar-stroke."

Linus motioned to his bound hands. "You don't say."

The old man produced a stone knife and swiftly cut the cords around Linus' hands. Linus rubbed his wrists and mentally prepared for an escape. The old man offered his bony hand, and Linus took it after some hesitation.

"My name is Etzl. And this is my band of smugglers. They...we...were lawless bandits for a while. Then, a long time ago, we met an extraordinary man. He convinced us to stop stealing from the people and start giving to them. From then on, we stole only from the warlords and distributed our takings to the commoners. We've been doing his task for the past forty years. He taught us to use our weapons and our bending powers for good."

Linus felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. "Who is this 'extraordinary man'?"

Etzl fixed Linus with a knowing stare and grinned. "Tell me, have you ever heard of Wan?"

Linus' heart leapt in his breast, and he felt incredibly light, although he didn't know why. "No, can't say that I have."

Etzl's face fell. "Don't they teach kids anything these days?"

"I'm an Airbender," Linus protested, "I'm trained in air combat, hand-to-hand combat, and advanced meditation."

"You're also a Waterbender," Etzl countered. "I saw you bend water a few days ago. There's only one other person I know that can bend more than one element. That was Wan, the person who convinced us to turn away from evil. He could bend air and water, like you. He could also bend fire and earth. He used his incredible powers for good, and he changed the world for the better." He pointed a gnarled finger at Linus. "What are you going to do with your powers?"

Linus cocked his head. "Are you implying that I can bend earth and fire too?"

Etzl shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. But won't it be interesting to find out?"

Instinctively, Linus knew he could bend all four elements. He looked down at his hands and could almost feel the untapped potential flowing through them. What did that mean for him? Linus knew the answer to that as well. It meant long years of training, and longer years of fighting against injustice. That was to be his future; he would have to endeavor for the rest of his life. Was he ready for this.

 _Yes_ , Linus thought. This changed nothing. He had already sworn to protect the helpless, to devote his life to serving good. Linus just had more tools to see his mission through. He looked determinedly at Etzl.

"I need a waterbending master."

"And I need a waterbending student," Etzl proudly replied, standing up. "Let's begin. We've got a long journey ahead of us." The stone knife flashed again, and Linus' feet were free. Etzl stuck out his hand and Linus took it, as the new student rose to meet his new teacher.

* * *

After a few more hours, the session was finished, and Nourma and Mehdi rode the monorail back to the Academy, leaving Opal to confer with Je Sig. Mehdi suddenly realized that they were riding atop a rail that stretched unbroken from the swampy southlands to the northern wastes, from the desert to the snows, from Republic City to Ba Sing Se. He mentioned this to Nourma, expecting her to share his amazement. Instead, she smiled weakly and went back to staring out the window at the passing city. Mehdi turned away, worried.

He looked around at the variety of races and cultures contained in the railcar. There were natives from the Water Tribes, with high cheekbones and proud faces. Sitting behind them were visitors from the Fire Nation, with hair as black as coal and blazing eyes. There were Republic City locals sitting behind Mehdi and Nourma, discussing something regarding "dividends" and "assets".

And yet, as Mehdi reflected on the different people in the car, he observed that they were all dressed the same. Aside from he and Nourma, wearing traditional Airbender robes, and the Fire Nation visitors in their predictable red robes, everyone else was wearing dark suits and trousers. It looked very uncomfortable to Mehdi. There was one person by the door, with an immaculately trimmed beard, who was dressed in a very svelte suit, with pinstripes and gleaming buttons. As he chewed a toothpick, his gaze fell on Mehdi. Mehdi looked away.

The train came to a stop at Whistler's Row. Two police officers boarded, dressed in their metal plated patrol uniforms. They looked at the man in the pinstripe suit. He glared back.

"Well, if it isn't Two-Nosed Ping," said one of the officers, "seems you're in a mess of trouble!" The train car fell silent as all eyes fell on the exchange.

"Not as big a mess as you'll be in if you don't leave me alone," Two-Nosed Ping replied with a gravelly voice.

One of the officers reached for her handcuffs. Ping flicked his wrist, sending the steaming tea of an adjacent passenger into the policewoman's face. She fell back with a cry. Ping rose and shoved her partner back into the opposite seat. A chime sounded; the doors were closing. Somebody yelled "Stop him!" but Mehdi was already up and running. Ping escaped through the closing door, followed closely by the Hami tribe boy.

Ping was sprinting down the length of the platform. Already, two people in maroon suits were in pursuit, with Mehdi bringing up the rear. With staccato steps, Ping went down the steps to street level, followed by the younger of the maroon suits. Mehdi passed the older partner, who was already wheezing and bent over. Dodging traffic, Ping crossed the busy street to the tune of blaring horns. He disappeared down a dark alley, followed by the maroon man and Mehdi. They rounded a corner. Ping splashed through a puddle and, twisting his torso and pronating his wrist, turned the puddle to ice. The maroon man yelped, lost his footing, and went tumbling into some nearby shop steps. Mehdi stumbled, but was able to regain his footing and continue the chase.

Ping was climbing some metal scaffolding now, but he was tiring. Mehdi easily leapt up the metal housings, until he was on the same level as Ping, three stories above the street. Ping sensed his pursuer behind him, and reached down, grabbed a bucket of chalk, and tossed it in Mehdi's face.

This would have been debilitating for most people, but to a desert dweller raised in airborne particulates, it barely phased Mehdi. He barrelled into Ping, sending them crashing through the flimsy floorboards and onto the second level. Ping groaned, splayed out under Mehdi. High on adrenaline, Mehdi delivered a punch to Ping's forehead that knocked him out. Mehdi sat back, panting. "I sure hope you were really a bad guy."

Then a shadow fell on Mehdi. He turned to see a broad shouldered man towering over him. He spoke with a gruff voice: "You're a real tough kid, aren't you?"

* * *

Dashtu was reading in his room late one night, studying the history of the Si Wong desert. Its history was as harsh as its climate, but it was punctuated by tiny oases of selfless people, rare but necessary.

The previous months had been a period of growth for Dashtu. After Fatima had released him, Dashtu was met with righteous suspicion from his brothers and sisters. But he had strived to be a model son of the Umara. He devoted himself to his studies, and he poured himself into bettering his tribe. And gradually he was accepted back into the family.

He had just reached the section of the scroll regarding the Sunken Library when he heard a soft noise outside his window. Dashtu went across the room and opened the pane. He saw a disheveled, dirty face with sunken eyes looking back at him.

Dashtu gasped. It was Ali.

"Hello brother," Ali croaked. "May I come in?"

Dashtu hesitated. He had been working so hard the past few months to gain Fatima's good graces. Even talking to his banished brother would have dire consequences. Ali continued speaking outside the window.

"I know I let the family down. I know I let you down. I made a mistake. And I've paid the consequences. It's a hard world out there, Dashtu. We grew up in privilege. I don't know how to survive with nothing. Please, I need your help."

Dashtu looked at his wasting brother. "What do you want?"

"I need you to come with me."

Dashtu laughed coldly. "Absolutely not."

Ali's face grimaced. "Please! I'm not the same person I was back then. I've changed. And what future do you have here? Sil will become chieftain of the Umara. You're the youngest child. You'll get nothing. There's nothing for you here. But us, together? I've seen the world out there. We can make our fortune."

Ali's eyes were shining, and Dashtu knew that his brother had not changed. He was still dangerously ambitious. But Dashtu also knew that without a tempering presence, Ali would do something rash out of desperation. He could hurt himself, or hurt others. But if he turned Ali over to Fatima, his mother would kill him. Dashtu could not do that to his own brother. With a deep sigh, he acquiesced. Dashtu needed to look out for his vulnerable brother. He needed to look out for the potential victims in Ali's path. Like Fatima said, the swords of the Umara needed to protect the needy. His mother would have to understand.


	6. Peace and Justice

BOOK ONE: VOID

CHAPTER FIVE: PEACE AND JUSTICE

Joon and Kyo were jogging side by side in Riverside Park, over the cracked paved path and under the dark boughs. The Republic City skyline was grey and distant on the horizon, and the sky was threatening rain. The two ladies jogged on regardless, chatting and gossiping.

"I told Ryu that if he wants me to come visit his grandparents with him, I needed something in return."

Kyo giggled. "Something round and shiny?"

"And with a gem as large as my fist!"

Kyo rolled her eyes. "Let me guess. He backed off real quick after that."

"Yeah. He said he needs more time to 'figure out his feelings.' Whatever that means."

"It means you need to give him an ultimatum. One month. No, two weeks. If he can't make up his mind before then, well, you make it up for him!" The women laughed in unison.

Kyo heard the slapping of her loose laces on the pavement and stopped to retie her shoes near some bushes. Joon continued on a few paces then slowly jogged in place.

"So anyways...Kyo?"

Joon heard a shriek, then the panicked voice of Kyo. "Spirits! Joon, quick, get the police!"

* * *

Half an hour later, the scene was crawling with the metal clad members of the force. A light rain was beginning to fall, and the fat droplets were sounding audibly off the black iron plates. Two detectives, instantly recognizable in their maroon suits, approached the perimeter. The lead officer noticed them and called them over. They introduced themselves as Detectives Malik and Han.

"It's the strangest thing I've ever saw," the officer began.

The older detective, Malik, interjected: "You must not have seen many things then."

The officer gave a dismissive laugh. "I've been on the force for nineteen years. Ain't seen nothing like this." He motioned them over to a clump of bushes by the running path. "So the two witnesses, they come across the body here."

"Where?" asked Han. They were looking at a bare patch of dirt.

"Here's the thing, detectives. The victim wasn't moving, couldn't even blink. _But she was awake!_ "

Both detectives turned and looked at the officer, too incredulous to speak.

The officer gave a satisfied smirk. "Yeah, I told you it was weird. She's at Chakra Med right now, with the liqqies looking at her."

Han turned to Malik. "Well, I give up. Strangest thing I've ever heard of, too."

Malik chuckled. "I've always told you, Han, about the dangers of exercise. These runs can be a killer."

* * *

The hard streets of Republic City stretched on, a grid of gridlock between looming buildings. Millions of people worked and lived there, traveling back and forth between jobs and homes. Behind the scenes, administrators toiled in windowless offices, and clerks ran errands both mundane and essential. Lawyers deliberated and debriefed. They worked in gleeming monuments to the state, in great columned halls of law.

But it was left to the police to patrol the streets, among the teeming masses of humanity. They arrested petty thieves and crime bosses alike. They worked under the beating sun and icy rains, in the dark nights and endless days. They looked out for each other, and they looked out for the people. In the giant steam-pot that was Republic City, it was they who provided order.

* * *

"That lady's lucky to be alive," remarked Doctor Chin. "Poison that potent is usually fatal to a seventy year old women." The detectives had visited Chakra Medical Center and found the victim in intensive care. The chief physician had ushered them into his office. "We were able to get her breathing on her own again," Chin continued, "but she's still unresponsive. She's aware though, and her eyes are still open." He shook his head. "Gives me the living creeps."

Han said, "Did you find anything on the body, er, on the patient that might identify her?"

The doctor nodded and reached into a nearby storage locker. "We had to cut her out of her garb." He handed over a sealed package, which Malik broke open. "Shame too. These clothes cost more than I make in a week."

Malik looked at the label on the chemise. "'Firefly'. Fancy stuff."

Han smirked. "Now all we have to do is patrol Red Avenue and ask if anyone hasn't been attending their high-society parties."

"Not so fast, Han." Malik rummaged through the pockets and pulled out a paper card with several holes punched in it. "How many gals on Red Avenue are cheap enough to eat at Po's Pho not once, but six times?"

* * *

"Yeah, I know her," said Po, the owner/chef/janitor of a run-down soup shop in Vineland Borough. "Miss Aru Wong. One of my best customers. Horrible tipper, but a real friendly lady. Folks like her usually eat caviar, instead of harbor runoff seafood." He looked nervously at the detectives. "Uh, don't mention that to the Health Committee."

"Maybe we won't," Han said, "if you can help us. Do you happen to know her address?"

Po turned away from the detectives to ladle out some clams into a clay bowl. "Yeah. My boy makes deliveries to her place every week." He called out over his shoulder to a cloud of steam billowing out of a simmering pot. "Oi! What's Miss Wong's address?"

"Uhh, Seven-Fifty One Red Avenue!" came a muffled voice from the steam. "It's the one with the gold lion-turtles on the porch."

"Thanks," said Malik. "Mind if I grab one of these?" he said, pointing to a tray of fresh-boiled crab-clams.

"Er, if you want," replied Po, eyeing the tray suspiciously.

Malik picked up a steaming shell and put it in his pocket. Both detectives turned to leave the shop. "Thanks," called Han over his shoulder, "we'll be in touch."

As they were walking down the steps, Han gave Malik a queer look. "You aren't seriously going to eat that, are you?"

"Watch and learn," replied the older partner. He produced a small pocketknife and pried the mollusk open with minimal effort. Han peered inside at the empty shell.

"I think old Po is cheating his customers," he said, "there's no meat in there!"

"No," said Malik, "this is an old gang trick. Hollowed out shells to pass messages to associates." He gestured back at the shop. "That place is definitely mixed up in some criminal dealings. If you ask me, this case is starting to stink worse than Po's seafood."

* * *

Tall, white columns surrounded the porch of the spacious mansion of Aru Wong. The opulent dwelling was almost indistinguishable from the others lining Red Avenue, save for the gilded lion-turtles guarding the entrance as promised. As the detectives climbed the marble steps, they noticed that the red door was ajar. Malik and Han glanced at each other, and drew their stun-batons in unison. Malik kicked the door open, and Han burst into the house.

The foyer was empty. So were the dining room and library. But when they entered the study, they found a grey haired woman in a blue suit rummaging through the desk.

"Police!" Han shouted. The woman yelped and spun around, shooting her hands in the air. She regarded the detectives with an inquisitive look, rather than fear. Malik and Han holstered their batons.

"Who are you?" Han asked.

"Kim Soo, attorney-at-law," replied the woman. She slowly lowered her hands and reached into her jacket, but paused when she saw the detectives stiffen. "My business card," she said, taking out a card and giving it to Han, "I'm Miss Wong's executor. How is she doing, by the way?"

"The doc said she's unresponsive, but she's alive," replied Malik. Kim Soo breathed a sigh of relief and sat on the desk.

Han pulled out a leather notebook and pen. "Do you know of anyone who might want to hurt Aru Wong? Any disgruntled butlers or jealous neighbors?"

Kim Soo scrunched up her face. "Maybe. I was just looking at her books, and Miss Wong was a patron of a street theater troupe, the one down in Roku Park. But I noticed that she stopped the payments about a month ago. But I don't think they could possibly be capable of something like this!"

Malik smirked. "I've met a lot of people, Miss Soo. I think anyone's capable of this, if the price is right."

* * *

They found the theater's cart surrounded by an eager audience. Malik and Han watched the performance, a fifteen minute recreation of the battle in Republic City that took place thirteen years earlier. The setup was impressive: wooden marionettes danced and fought amidst a moving backdrop. Stagehands stationed in the wings shot tiny bursts of air, water, fire, and earth as the heroine prevented the scale-model colossus from destroying the city.

The detectives introduced themselves to the managers after the play. One was a short man with a broad beard and shaved head, but he answered the questions with a genuine smile. The other was tall and wiry and mostly silent.

"Miss Wong is in the hospital?" the first man inquired. When Han affirmed this, the manager continued. "I'm sorry to hear that. Miss Wong was a friend of ours, and a generous patron."

"That's actually why we wanted to talk to you," said Malik. "A lot of people when their funding gets cut off get angry. Then they get even."

"You think we did this?" said the manager. Han and Malik said nothing. "I can assure you, we are not those kind of people. We're entertainers. And we make enough money to be perfectly fine without Miss Wong's support. Our audience is generous." He showed them a hat full of yuans, their takings from the last show.

"Even so," said Han, "we'd like to know where you two were last night at nine o'clock."

The wiry man spoke for the first time. "We were at Tallow Way, doing the same performance you just saw. If you need witnesses, you can ask the mayor's husband and his kids. They enjoyed the show."

The bald man interjected. "Now that I think about it, I did see Miss Wong with another man at a few of our recent shows."

Malik smirked. "Her boyfriend?"

"Maybe. It's not my place to say. He was young, with slicked back black hair, and an expensive looking pinstripe suit."

Malik sighed. "And chewing a toothpick?"

"Hey yeah! How'd you know that?"

"That's Two-Nosed Ping," Malik muttered to his partner.

"Let's just say he's an old buddy of ours," Han said. "Thanks for your help. Give us a call if you remember anything else."

They started to walk away, but after a step, Malik turned and pointed at the mobile stage. "I think you're using the wrong word there."

The managers turned back and sure enough, painted in bold, black characters above the stage, read "AVATAR BREAKS THE CANON".

The wiry manager turned around, grinned, and rubbed his nose. "We never let ourselves get bogged down in minute details. We'd prefer to tell stories. It's what we're good at."

* * *

The squad car sat idling on the corner of Forty-Fifth and Seventeenth. Inside, Han and Malik were listening to the radio for any word on the ongoing search for their new lead.

"I'm just saying," Han began, "Aru Wong might have been part of a criminal enterprise. Why else would an upstanding woman be mixed in with all these shady lowlifes?"

"So you're saying that Aru Wong is the new boss of the Four Corners Syndicate?" Malik chuckled. "I've gotta tell the chief that."

"You know what I mean. I think she got involved with the wrong people, and got poisoned for it."

Malik nodded. "I think you're right. In any case, we can ask Ping when we find him."

At that moment the radio crackled. "All units, dispatch. Two-Nosed Ping spotted riding north along the Wind Line. Last spotted at Thirty-First Station."

Han shifted the car into gear and started driving east. "If he's going north, we can cut him off at Whistler's Row!" Malik started the siren. The car dodged and weaved through the box trucks that populated the narrow streets. Han had grown up in Republic City. His first job was delivering hot kimchi in sealed containers on bicycle. He knew all the streets, alleys, and shortcuts in the city. Han turned the wheel hard to the right. The car made the turn, squealing on two wheels while Malik gripped the dashboard. He was used to his partner's driving, but he still didn't like it.

They screeched to a hard stop outside the station and raced up the stairs. They arrived on the platform just in time to see the doors open and two police officers enter the train.

"That's Mace and Lui," Han stated. He stepped forward to follow them, but Malik held him back. They waited a moment. Then they heard a cry, and saw Ping burst out of the closing train doors and start running towards the stairs on the opposite end of the platform. The detectives started running.

Malik was already winded when he reached the top of the stairs. He was too old for this. He left the footrace to his partner, and took a short breather. Suddenly a strange man in robes flew past him, chasing Han. Malik grimaced. He knew his partner could take Two-Nosed Ping, but not Ping and his accomplice. With a groan, he started down the stairs.

Malik reached the car and peeled off, heading a block south. Han had followed Ping down an alley that was too narrow for the car, so Malik took the next street east. Siren blaring, he made a left turn into traffic, cutting off several irate drivers. He straightened out in time to see Ping and his accomplice burst out from the alley, cross the busy street, and start climbing the scaffolding on a nearby building.

The car stopped suddenly at the base of the construction. Malik exited the vehicle and looked around. His partner was nowhere in sight. Malik looked up. They were already on the second level. Malik started climbing the ladder, one rung at a time. "Don't look down," he muttered, "don't look down."

He reached the second level when he heard a crash above him. The sheet wood that made up the ceiling splintered, and the two pursuees fell onto the floor in front of Malik, one on top of the other. Malik whipped out his stun-baton, ready to subdue, when Ping's accomplice suddenly punched Ping, knocking him out. The mystery assailant said, "I sure hope you were really a bad guy."

Malik realized this wasn't a man, just a boy. And, judging from his Air Acolyte robes, almost certainly not a criminal. The boy turned and looked at Malik. Malik chuckled and said: "You're a real tough kid, aren't you?"

The boy retreated a few steps and raised his fists. Malik motioned at Ping's prostrate body with his baton.

"What were you doing with him?"

The boy looked down at Ping. "He attacked two police officers and ran away. I ran after him." He glared back at Malik. "Who are you?"

Malik gave a friendly smile. "I'm Detective Malik, RCPD, Twenty-Seventh Precinct."

The boy dropped his fists and extended a chalky hand. "I'm Mehdi. Hami tribe. Air Acolyte."

"Good to meet you, Mehdi." They shook hands. Malik noticed that Mehdi was shaking slightly and standing far away from the edge. "Are you afraid of heights, kid?" Mehdi looked away. "So am I. C'mon, let's climb down. Ping isn't going anywhere."

As they were going down the ladder, Malik was scanning the street for Han. "Hey Mehdi," he called out to the kid below him, "have you seen another guy in a maroon suit?"

Mehdi frowned. "Yeah…"

* * *

As Two-Nosed Ping was being loaded into a police van, Han was being loaded into an ambulance. He had broken his right leg upon crashing into the concrete steps during the chase. Malik and Mehdi looked on helplessly as the medics tended to Han's fracture.

"If you didn't want to be my partner, you could have just told me," joked Malik awkwardly.

"Hey, I needed to cripple myself just to let you keep up with me," shot back Han, grinning through the pain.

Malik clapped Han on the shoulder. "Get better, buddy. I'll come see you soon." The doors slammed shut, and the ambulance drove away. It was just Malik and Mehdi standing on the dusky street.

After a moment, the old detective cleared his throat and turned to Mehdi. "Well kid, you better get back to school before you miss all your classes."

"Actually, Air Acolytes don't have classes. We're more…"

"Yeah, sure," said Malik, not listening. "Thanks for your help." He started walking slowly towards his squad car.

"Hey, wait!" Mehdi called out. Malik turned back around. "Why did the police call him 'Two-Nosed Ping'? His nose seemed fine to me."

"He's called Two-Nosed Ping because they say he has a second nose to sniff out danger and avoid trouble. A ridiculous nickname if you ask me."

"Oh." Mehdi pondered this for a moment. "I guess his second nose failed him today."

Malik chuckled. "Yeah, I guess it did." Mehdi grinned widely. Malik turned back to his car. "See you 'round, kid."

* * *

Two-Nosed Ping sat in the darkened interrogation room sporting mussed hair, a chalky suit, and a black eye. His lawyer sat with him, talking lowly. Suddenly they heard a commotion outside, followed by the door banging open and Malik barging in the room, his lieutenant calmly striding in after him.

Malik slammed his hands on the metal table, causing Ping and his lawyer to twitch back nervously. The lieutenant watched from a dark corner of the room, her arms folded.

"Listen here, you slime," Malik growled. "I don't know your Four Corner buddies managed to get your sleazy lawyer here so fast, but it won't matter. We can charge you right now with assault on a police officer and a detective, as well as destruction of property and civil endangerment. If you tell us what you know about Aru Wong's poisoning, we might drop the last two charges. And that's because my lieutenant," he jerked his thumb over his shoulder, "is in a forgiving mood. Me," he leaned in and bared his teeth, "I'm not so hospitable."

The lawyer leaned back in his chair. "Enough grandstanding, detective. You're in the wrong here, and you know it. My client was just riding the train, but you people accosted him, chased him, and had your hired goon assault him. Where is the assailant now? We will be pressing charges against him."

Malik paused. "He got away somehow," he said softly.

"Big surprise," intoned the lawyer. "Nevertheless, my client is innocent. Why were you looking for him?"

The lieutenant spoke up from the corner. "He was spotted with the victim before her poisoning. Because of his known criminal background we wanted to question him. But before we could do that, your client scalded one of my officers and broke the leg of one of my detectives."

"Hundreds of people were spotted with the victim. And my client was cleared of all previous charges, so that argument falls down." The lawyer leaned forward and began to speak forcefully. "Furthermore, my client was not being arrested. In _State vs. Hiru_ , the courts ruled that persons not under arrest may defend themselves against a perceived deadly threat, even from officers of the law."

"Wait a minute!" Malik interjected, "There was no threat. Mace was…"

"Additionally," the lawyer interrupted, "you and your partner did not identify yourself as police before pursuing my client. _State vs. Ukkida_ authorized non-lethal bending if a person fears for their safety."

"That's ridiculous! Everyone knows detectives wear maroon. And Ping would have been perfectly safe, if he had cooperated."

The lawyer gestured at Ping dramatically. "Is that what you call safe? Busted eye, torn clothes, and a strained back! Let's get one thing straight: you cannot legally charge my client with anything. But we can charge this department with neglect, reckless endangerment, and personal assault. My client has decided to drop all charges because he's in a forgiving mood. Me," he smirked, "I wouldn't have been so hospitable."

Malik gritted his teeth. "Why you little…" He lunged at the lawyer.

"Malik!" barked the lieutenant. "That's enough!" She stepped forward into the light and, with a sigh, bent the handcuffs off of Ping's wrists. Ping and his lawyer rose and started to exit the room.

As Ping passed the scowling Malik, he leaned in and whispered, "Sorry about your partner. I'll send some flowers." Malik balled his fists.

When the door closed, Malik turned on his lieutenant. "Loo, you can't seriously let them go!"

"He wasn't going to talk," she replied calmly. "We'll follow him and see what he does. He'll give us more information out there than he would have in here."

"Right. I'll get the car." Malik started towards the door.

"Not you. I need you to go through Miss Wong's paperwork. The Committee has released all her personal effects to us for the investigation. See what you can dig up."

Malik sighed. "I always made Han do the paperwork."

The lieutenant put a hand on Malik's shoulder. "There's always time to teach an old seal-dog new tricks."

* * *

Several hours later, Malik was surrounded by boxes of papers and several greasy cartons of takeout. He rubbed his eyes. The tiny characters were starting to blur together and the cheap food was rumbling in his gut. Malik slapped his stubbled face and started his line of reasoning again.

Aru Wong inherited her considerable wealth from her parents, who had inherited it from their ancestors. She was old money and fit right in with her peers on Red Avenue. Her high society life didn't hold any aspects of criminality. Her documents showed no signs of illegal activities. The only strange things about her were a love of bad seafood at a shady restaurant and a possible sighting of her with a small time criminal. No one had anything to gain from her death. Her will, which Malik had read twelve times over, stated that Aru Wong's assets would go to several orphanages and shelters across the city.

But if somebody wanted Miss Wong dead, why such an exotic poison? The Four Corners Syndicate was perfectly able to dispatch someone. But the poison failed to do its job and left Wong paralyzed.

 _Did it fail, or did it succeed?_ Malik wondered. He felt his heart leap in his breast, his sure sign of a lead. He thumbed through the will again and looked on Page 23 at Section 117.

"In the event of my injury and incapacitation, my executor shall have full authority to determine the extent of my medical abilities, and distribute all necessary funds to aid in my recovery, if possible."

Aru Wong's executor. Kim Soo. The same person rifling through Miss Wong's effects just hours after the poisoning. The same person who was relieved after hearing that Miss Wong was still alive.

Malik grinned and called his lieutenant into the room. After explaining his theory, the lieutenant left to get a warrant from the Committee of Justice. Malik wanted to go home to his one room apartment, but he needed to make one more stop. To the City Hospital, to visit Han.

* * *

The next morning Malik and two officers drove to the Business District at the tip of the city isle. Kim Soo's office was high up in a bright white skyscraper with a gorgeous western view of the harbor. The rising sun shone off the rippling bay into the immaculately organized office. Her secretary informed Malik that Kim Soo hadn't arrived yet, but Malik strode past her protests waving his warrant.

While searching through her desk, Malik discovered an interesting document. At that time, Kim Soo walked into the office. Malik sat down comfortably in her chair.

"Detective! What are you doing here?"

"Oh, just following up on a lead," Malik replied nonchalantly. He tapped on a paper in front of him.

Kim Soo's eyes narrowed. "I'll have you know that those files are protected by lawyer-client privilege, and you are breaking the law by looking at them."

Malik smiled. "Not if we have a warrant. We can confiscate anything if it's proof of criminal activity. And it says here that you are also an executor for Chin's Hatchery, which happens to be a known front for the Four Corners Syndicate. Oh my. You failed to mention that when we last spoke."

Kim Soo's eyes widened and her face blanched. "I never knew…" she mumbled.

"Save it." Malik walked over to Kim Soo and deftly applied handcuffs to her wrists. "Kim Soo, the State is arresting you on suspicion of deliberate injury and conspiracy to commit criminal activities. You still retain the all the rights of a Citizen of the United Republics, except for Freedom of Movement. Have you anything to say in your defense?" Kim shook her head, lips pursed.

She and Malik, flanked by the two officers, marched out of the building, under the astonished stares of the assembled office workers.

Malik gently helped her into the back of the squad car and sat next to her while the officers drove up front. He turned to the cuffed executor.

"Listen, I think you were set up. You got in over your head and got caught up with hard criminals. We can help you. We can take down those criminals. But first you have to tell us what you know."

"Don't play that game with me," Kim Soo snapped back. "I'm not that naive. I'm willing to tell you what I know, but I need immunity before I talk."

"No deal, honey." Malik turned and looked out the window.

"Okay, I'll admit to knowingly representing a criminal enterprise. You can charge me with that. The knowledge I have can save Miss Wong's life!"

"Then you better tell me now, or we'll charge you with murder."

Kim shook her head. "Not until I receive a signed notice clearing me of all charges, except criminal representation."

Malik groaned. "This is why I hate arresting lawyers," he muttered to himself.

* * *

The lieutenant briefed the assault team at the Twenty-Seventh Precinct station. It consisted of several police officers as well as Terra Firma, a group of elite Earthbenders specializing in combat operations. Malik would bring up the rear. He had been in his share of exciting situations, and he was more than willing to let the youngsters take care of the action.

"The Four Corners Syndicate is holding the antidote to Aru Wong's poison in one of their safehouses, somewhere in the Dregs," the lieutenant announced, pointing to a map of the neighborhood. The Dregs referred to a neighborhood made up of immigrants from the Si Wong desert. It was notoriously poor and crime-ridden.

"Why would they hold the antidote for a victim they poisoned?" asked a member of Terra Firma.

Malik spoke up. "The Four Corners never wanted to kill Miss Wong. Her will stated that if she was injured or paralyzed that her wealth would be controlled by her executor, Kim Soo. Miss Soo told us that the plan was to transfer all of Miss Wong's money to the Four Corners. This would 'buy' the antidote and heal Miss Wong. Her money would have been hidden away, secured by the Syndicate."

"But now we have a chance to seize the antidote and still leave Miss Wong with her fortune," the lieutenant continued. "Kim Soo will take a backpack full of yauns to Low Station," she pointed to the map, "at the northern border of the Dregs. She will hand it off to a local associate of Four Corners, and the local will take it to the safehouse. The local will then return from the safehouse and give Kim Soo the antidote."

"How are we gonna follow the local into the Dregs without being noticed?" asked an officer. "I'm looking around this room, ma'am, and if anybody with our complexion steps foot into that neighborhood we'll blow the whole operation. We need a desert-dweller."

Malik smirked. "Don't worry, kid. I know a guy."

* * *

The vendors called out high and shrill under the bright sun as Mehdi strolled wondrously through the bustling streets of the Dregs. Republic City never failed to amaze the Hami tribe boy. Here was a small piece of the city that held more desert-dwellers than Mehdi had seen in his entire life. He was relaxed, despite his initial apprehension. He was surrounded by his people. Ever since coming to Republic City, Mehdi had felt like an outsider. The people here were too modern, living their lives in comfort, surrounded by gadgets. But in this neighborhood Mehdi could hear the calls of street vendors and see everyone dressed in the same brown robes.

The police had even provided Mehdi with his own robe. It was a little large around the waist and a little short in the arms, but it was the best they had. Mehdi was delighted when he got a call on the dormitory phone from Detective Malik asking him to help him with the case. Nourma had been adamant about not going when Mehdi had told her, but this was too good of an opportunity to pass up. Mehdi had scant time to explore the city between his duties as an Acolyte. It wasn't fair for Nourma to have all the fun, what with her studies and her training and her dictations with Linus. Mehdi could handle some excitement as well.

That thought brought Mehdi back to the task at hand: following the backpack. He had witnessed the handoff to a scrawny old woman who looked to be from the Xiang Tribe. From there Mehdi had followed the battered green backpack with ragged straps through the streets. He had kept his distance and avoided staring, as instructed by Malik. But now the woman had stopped and was looking back and forth nervously. Mehdi hid in the behind a streetcart filled with brooms.

Suddenly the woman sprinted across the street and into a run down, two-story brick house. Mehdi stared for a moment at through the open door into the darkness within. After a minute he slid his hand into his right pocket and pressed the "transmit" button on the hidden radio.

"Brick house on Yuli Way, two buildings down from," he squinted to read the faded numbers, "5801; there's a yellow car parked outside, and a person on the steps."

Mehdi felt a heavy hand clamp down on his shoulder. He was whirled around and looked up at a burly man with a bushy black beard and beady eyes. Mehdi tried to keep pressing "transmit", but his hand was yanked out of his robe, still tightly grasping the radio.

The man seized the radio and deftly crushed it in his palm. "You little brat!" he spat. He grabbed Mehdi's arm and dragged him towards the house where the backpack had gone. Mehdi yelled in protest, but the bystanders on the street paid him no mind. He was marched up the steps and thrust into the doorway, falling onto the dusty rug. His eyes struggled to adjust to the darkness.

"Nymia, you were followed," said the man.

"That means they'll be coming," replied a voice.

"Give me the money. I'll get it out of here," said a voice that was familiar to Mehdi.

"And leave us here to fight the cops? No way, we're leaving too."

"You need to hold them off, gives me enough time to…" The familiar voice paused. "Is that who was following you?"

Mehdi was lifted roughly off the floor and suddenly stared into the face of Two-Nosed Ping. Mehdi shrank back in fear.

Ping gave a sinister grin. "Hello there! I threw off my other police tails, but I'm glad I didn't shake you. Remember this?" He pointed to his bruised eye. "Allow me to return the favor!"

The blow struck Mehdi full across the face and he collapsed back onto the rug. Ping laughed harshly and started to pick Mehdi up. Mehdi drove his legs into the floor and barreled into Ping, letting his fists fly blindly. Suddenly he was driven off his feet and into a wall by a barrage of water. He collapsed into a pile of broken pottery as Ping bent the water back into a sphere, then thrust it back at Mehdi. Mehdi was thrown back into the wall, coughing and sputtering. Ping withdrew a knife and slowly approached his victim. Mehdi could hear a deep thrumming in his head.

"You should have never left your Airbender school, boy." Ping knelt down and waved the knife in Mehdi's face. "I'll teach you to interfere in my business."

The thrumming intensified. Ping looked up, worriedly. In an instant, there was a loud whooshing sound and the entire room filled with pulverized brick dust. Mehdi was aware of dark shapes and loud shouting through the haze. Ping looked back at Mehdi, coughing. He slammed Mehdi against the wall and raised his knife. In a flash, a massive gloved hand grabbed Ping's fist and slammed it into the wall. Ping's fist and knife were encased in the brick, and he struggled to yank it out. The figure behind Ping slammed into him, crushing Mehdi against the wall. Mehdi could feel the brick behind him suddenly turn as soft as sand, and he fell backwards through the once-solid brick into the adjacent room, tripping and falling onto his back. He saw Ping's face emerge from the wall and stop. Ping sputtered and cursed in rage, but he was trapped in the now-solid brick. Mehdi looked at him in wonder, not understanding what had happened..

A voice from the other room cried out "clear!" and the commotion stopped. After a few seconds, a figure walked hurriedly to Mehdi.

"You're a real tough kid, aren't you?"

Mehdi grinned then immediately winced from the pain. Malik looked concerned. "Here, we'll get a medic to help you."

"No, no, I'm fine," Mehdi said, waving Malik away and rising to his feet.

Malik regarded Mehdi with a proud look. "First time through a wall, huh? Those Terra Firma boys do some weird stuff, but they get results."

The detective turned to Ping, who was still struggling to free himself from the bricks. "Well, well. We meet again. Since I failed to properly identify myself last time, let me fix that now." He displayed his badge. "Detective Malik, RCPD, Twenty-Seventh Precinct. The State is arresting you for assault on a Citizen and conspiracy to commit criminal activities. You still retain the all the rights of a Citizen of the United Republics, except for…" he tried to suppress a laugh, "Freedom of Movement. Have you anything to say in your defense?"

"Be careful about using these little sand urchins to do your bidding," Ping spat. "Most of them work for us. I even used a dirty scrub like this one to deliver the poison to that rich broad."

"Hey, you're talking now!" said Malik, good-humoredly. "Tell us what you know, and it'll go easier on you."

"What do I care?" Ping shot back vengefully. "If I'm going down, that little brat is too. He was about this kid's age. Just came up from the desert. From the Ki Sheek tribe."

Mehdi's heart sank. "It's pronounced Ky Shek. And it's a city, not a tribe. Was his name Ali?"

Ping attempted to shake his head but found it impossible. "No. His name was Dishtuh or something."

Mehdi's heart sank even lower. He recalled that day back in the village, and an Umara his age standing over his prone brother looking distraught. "Dashtu," he muttered.

"Yes, that was it!" Ping proclaimed triumphantly. "Now go do your job, detective. Arrest that little viper-rat."


	7. Think Locally, Act Gobally

BOOK ONE: VOID

CHAPTER SEVEN: THINK LOCALLY, ACT GLOBALLY

The fourth step up the shoddy wooden staircase would creak loudly if stepped on, so Dashtu leapt lightly over it, so as not to wake his sleeping neighbors.

Dashtu was in a good mood. He and Ali had moved to Republic City in search of work. Ali had found them jobs as dishwashers in a seafood shop, and the owner of the shop had even given them a room to stay in. It was in a neighborhood of Si Wong desert immigrants called the Dregs, and while it was run down, it reminded Dashtu of home.

They had been working for a few months now, and Ali's demeanor had improved drastically. He was no longer sullen or bad-tempered; he seemed to have found a new drive and purpose in life. Dashtu prided himself on having a positive influence on his brother. Maybe exile was the best thing that could have happened to him. Maybe they could return home, eventually.

He pushed back the flimsy cloth that served as a door and entered the small room. Ali was sitting on his floorpad, lacing his moccasins. He was preparing to leave for work, having graciously volunteered to take the overnight shift.

"How was work?" asked Ali.

"Same as usual," replied Dashtu. "Oh, an interesting thing happened. The police came to the shop." He saw Ali stiffen. "Don't worry," he assured his brother, "they weren't looking for immigrants. They were investigating this old woman. Aru Wong, do you remember her?" When Ali shook his head Dashtu continued. "Apparently she was poisoned!"

"Hmm," said Ali. He looked thoughtfully into the air, then stood up.

"Well anyways," said Dashtu cheerfully, "I'll let you get on with it. Have a good day!"

"You too," Ali replied as he strode out the door.

Dashtu took off his work clothes and flopped onto his own floorpad. He smiled, despite his exhaustion. Today was going to be a good day.

* * *

The breezes blew briskly across the harbor as Nourma sat on the Academy roof overlooking the shining waters of Republic City's harbor and tried to meditate. She focused on the Four Great Truths, she contemplated the mythic Way, she counted the buildings across the water. Finally she gave up, giving an exasperated groan. "This isn't working!"

"No kidding," remarked Linus, appearing behind Nourma. "Watching you meditate is like watching a tuna-salmon climb a tree."

"Is that supposed to help me calm down?" Nourma asked through gritted teeth. "Because, if it is, it isn't working either."

Linus sat down beside Nourma and began talking, probably something about inner balance. Nourma didn't have the energy to listen to him drone on.

For the last few months Nourma had been steadily improving in her studies. Her marks were better, and no one called her "that ignorant desert girl" anymore. She was a natural at airbending combat; only a few other students were willing to spar with her anymore. To her delight, she was gradually learning how to operate her wingsuit. Granted, she could only do a few slow laps around the courtyard, never more than a measure above the cobblestones, but she could fly. Nourma was even getting used to a vegetarian lifestyle.

Nourma especially enjoyed travelling to the University each week and dictating Linus' stories. She loved hearing about his harrowing adventures in the ancient world: how he had braved a monsoon on open waters to learn waterbending, how he had accidentally blown up a hill while learning earthbending, how he had (unsuccessfully) tried to tame a dragon while learning firebending. Sifu Opal and Doctor Je Sig were enthralled by the stories as well, but more for their historical value. Xuexi was so enamored by the ancient account that she would go to ridiculous lengths to eavesdrop on Je Sig's office. Last week had seen her posing as a janitor with an oversized handlebar mustache doing a very meticulous cleaning of the office door.

But despite the recent positive changes, Nourma felt a hollowness inside her. She missed her family and the desert, but the void was deeper than that. As she probed the reason for the empty ache, she suddenly realized it was Mehdi. Her and Mehdi had spent maybe twelve cumulative minutes together in the past week. She missed her friend. Mehdi was constantly busy with his Acolyte duties and now, apparently, helping the Republic City police.

Nourma had been shocked when Mehdi sprinted out of the train a few days before. She had worried all afternoon, and was relieved to see him return that evening in ruined robes. And, just yesterday, Mehdi had foolishly agreed to help out the police again, this time earning a bruised face for his troubles. That was Mehdi. He would always jump eagerly into something without thinking of the consequences. Nourma had never minded that, as long as she could join him. But now Mehdi was too busy to trespass, to cause mischief, to go on adventures.

When they saw each other, they used the same inside jokes they had used in the village. But those jokes were tired, used, worn out. There was no spark in their brief conversations anymore, only a rote recitation before returning to their separate lives. _Maybe_ , Nourma thought, _this is what growing up feels like_.

"...isn't that right, Nourma?"

The question startled Nourma out of her thoughts. "Erm, yeah, that's right," she answered weakly.

Linus frowned. "You haven't been listening to a word I've said. I would have thought that an Airbender Master wouldn't be so rudely ignored by such a young novice."

Nourma put on an injured air. "I've been trying to meditate! But there's so many distractions."

"I actually had the same problem when I was a student. Let me guess, your head is in turmoil, full of thoughts zipping around up there." Nourma nodded.

"Instead of fighting that turmoil, you must embrace it. You must make it work for you. Look at the ocean." Nourma regarded the choppy waves in the bay. "See how it's in turmoil too? But eventually, if you stare at it long enough, you'll find patterns, repetitions, order."

Nourma watched the waves slosh into each other, sending other waves careening in all directions. There was no order here. But after a while she saw the same part of the bay rise and fall; a cresting whitecap turning to a blue-green depression, then back to a whitecap.

"Your mind is the same. Let those intrusive thoughts come. Don't dwell on them. Let them pass. One pops up, another leaves. One leaves, another po…"

Linus' voice fell off suddenly, and Republic City winked out from view. It was just Nourma alone on her patch of tiled roof. The darkness all around her was swelling, dancing, broiling. It surrounded her and filled her with infinite permutations. Nourma was aware of a slight aura around her. She looked at her hand. There was a line drawn across her palm that revealed the fiery light inside. It glowed with the fury of the setting sun, only much brighter and much hotter. She glanced at her other hand. This one had a splotchy rash on it. Its glow was less intense, like the morning dunes reflecting the rising sun. Nourma felt no pain, but she felt the onset of pain held back like a rising tide. The tide fell back and Nourma could feel the agony approaching. The tide rose and Nourma could feel the approach of happiness welling up within her. The orange light flickered and faded and finally went out, leaving her cold and alone in the dark.

Suddenly the pain hit her in full force. It tore through her shoulder and Nourma screamed out, falling to her knees onto the cold, metal floor. She was alone in a pitch black room. There were harsh scrabbling noises outside the door. People, bad people, coming to take her. The door swung open and the bright light poured in. A dark shape with a terrible mask grabbed her and threw her outside. She landed outside in the ice, and the snowy whiteness of it all blinded her. She could feel herself sinking down into the cold mass. The glacier enveloped her. Nourma was blind, unable to move, and scared. But she felt a small flame of joy deep within her, and she laughed at the world of white.

But now that wisp of joy was extinguished, and Nourma found herself kneeling in black mud. Her ears were ringing and her limbs were shaking from exhaustion. She felt someone roughly jerk her hair back, exposing her naked throat to the dull, brown air.

She cried out in terror: "Please, you don't have to do this!" A pause. Then the hand came down and Nourma's world exploded into a pulsing, violent red, growing brighter into shimmering orange, then to a bright yellow, and finally pure white.

Nourma collapsed onto the clay tiles, and the feel of the rough roof brought her back to reality. The sounds of the harbor ships gradually returned, and Nourma could make out the worried frettings of Linus.

"...you hear me? Nourma? Oh please answer me! Nourma!"

Nourma rose slowly to her feet and tottered a little as the world spun around her. She sat down cross-legged and felt out her injuries. To her surprise there was no pain anymore, just a dull memory of agony. Her limbs were still shaking, but not from exhaustion. Nourma felt her body trilling with a surge of energy she had never felt before. She wanted to climb the highest dune. She wanted to run for days.

She wanted to fly.

Nourma turned to the still stammering Linus. "It's alright, I'm fine," she said weakly.

"I beg to differ," retorted Linus, grateful at Nourma's recovery. "I have never seen anyone have that reaction to meditation. And I've been doing this for a long time." His snarkiness returned as the worriness faded. "I refuse to believe that a young novice Airbender would have that powerful a meditation." His bushy white eyebrows furrowed. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

The adrenaline was still coursing through Nourma's body. "I dunno," she said carelessly, "maybe this has something to do with me bending fire."

She heard a snort followed by a coughing fit from Linus. "Are you," he stammered after regaining his breath, "are you telling me that you can bend fire as well as air?"

The incredulousness of Linus' question dampened Nourma's haphazardness, and she hugged her legs. "Well, yeah. Only once though. But wait…" Nourma turned on Linus, "I already told you that!"

"Not likely. When?"

"When we first met. In the desert! Don't you remember?"

The ancient spirit scoffed. "How am I, with ten thousand years of memories, supposed to remember every little statement from every little child?"

Nourma looked at her hands. They had stopped shaking, but she could still feel the tingling energy from within. "Linus," she asked softly, trying to keep back tears, "am I the Avatar?"

"Not likely. You said the current Avatar is still alive. And that's another issue I'd like to bring up with you, because I would very much like to meet…"

"Linus?" Nourma interrupted. "Have there ever been any evil Avatars?"

He saw the tears welling in her eyes, and the fear behind them, and tried to console Nourma with objective, rational history. "No. There was a line called the Pale Avatars who were more 'bad' than usual, but this was more a product of their upbringing and not any inherent…" He trailed off when he saw Nourma hunched over, looking into the distance. Linus was silent.

They watched the clouds roll off the snowy peak overlooking the city. After a few minutes Linus spoke up. "Nourma," he began, "I don't know if you are the Avatar. But I do know…"

The harsh noise of a clanging gong rang out, disturbing the calm air. Nourma stood up automatically, forgetting Linus, and started down off the roof. The gong called all the students to the central courtyard in cases of emergency. During Nourma's time at the Academy, she had joined the assembly in the courtyard five times: two times for Airbender missions (which Nourma was not invited to), two times for fire drills, and once because a rebellious student had decided to pull a prank in the middle of the freezing night.

With her Airbending robes blending into the sea of orange and white, all that singled Nourma out was her silver hair shining bright against the backdrop of brunette and jet-haired pupils. She found her place among her classmates and tried to stay still. The images from her meditation, Linus' words, the mystery of the assembly, and her lingering restless energy all caused Nourma to fidget. She overheard a classmate ask what was going on.

"I heard it from Sifu Meru," came the whispered reply, "that there was an avalanche in the Sunset Range. It damaged the Rocky Run track." For some reason, Nourma felt a twinge of fear.

"There's no snow in those mountains," retorted another student. "You're thinking of a landslide."

"You're both wrong. The proper term is a rockfall. The local terrain is too dry and steep for…"

Nourma never registered the precise distinction between a rockfall and a landslide because her mind had just remembered a once-trivial fact: Mehdi was returning on the Rocky Run train. Her mind darted to and fro, trying to recall the pertinent details.

When Mehdi found out about his assignment to pick up and escort a shipment from Zaofu he gleefully told Nourma. Indeed, he wouldn't shut up about it. Nourma had heard of the City of the Iron Flowers from her more worldly classmates, and she was excited (and more than a little jealous) for Mehdi. She didn't give him the satisfaction, however, of seeing her eagerness.

Mehdi had said he was leaving on the overnight train, and returning at midday. Someone was talking to the assembly, but Nourma paid him no mind. She stuck out her tongue, scrunched her face, and tried to calculate the travel times. The Sunset Range, according to Nourma's hazy recollection of maps half-glanced at, was about two hours south of Republic City. It was three hours before noon now, so…

Nourma brushed off her calculations; she knew the answer in her heart. Her friend was in trouble. She was going to help him.

She was aware of the assembly breaking up. Her Fire Nation friend strode past her, but Nourma tugged at her sleeve. "What's going on?" Nourma inquired.

"There's a train headed towards a gap in the track," Nourma's heart froze. "A few of us are going to make sure it stops before it...well...before it's too late."

"I'm coming with you," Nourma announced.

"No," said a voice behind them. Nourma turned to see Sifu Opal, already wearing her flight suit. The flexible red fabric hugged her body tightly, while the billowy black wings hung from her arms, affixed at three strong points to the sides of her suit. Opal was pinning her short hair back, but her firm green eyes never left Nourma's.

"You have not finished your training, Nourma. We are dropping into a narrow canyon. You would be seriously injured, or worse, if you came with us."

"But Mehdi's on that train! You can't expect me to sit around while he's in danger!"

Opal glared at Nourma. "I expect you to obey my orders. This is for your own safety. You can't help Mehdi if you're in trouble too." Her face softened and she put a hand on Nourma's shoulder. "One day you will fly with us. When you're ready." She turned quickly around and ran towards the island's small runway where a plane was already idling. The Airbenders would fly to the site, drop from the skies, and save the day.

But Nourma was left alone in the courtyard, watching her more talented seniors and peers rush off to action. She flexed her arms; she still felt the energy from before still reverberating within her. "I am ready," she muttered, half to the departing Opal, half to herself.

The bell was ringing for midday classes, but Nourma ignored it. She stole into the women's dormitories, opened her wall locker, and pulled out her own flight suit. It was not weather stained with experience like Opal's, rather, it sported tears and patches from Nourma's rough landings. Nourma grimaced, thinking of her novice attempts at flying. But this time was different. She could feel it.

There was a secluded spot, below the Western lecture hall, that overlooked a long drop into a calm lagoon. This was a favorite diving spot of students, and they prided themselves on keeping it a secret from the teachers, not knowing that the teachers had dove into those same waters years before when they themselves were novice Airbenders. Nourma crept up the slippery rock and looked down into the water a measure below. She made sure her side straps were securely fastened to the webbing around her abdomen. She sent a test blast of air backwards into her wings, causing her to stumble back a step. She tested the prevailing winds for any gusts. Nourma was prepared.

With her rubber soles slapping on the smooth stone, Nourma ran to the edge and cast herself off. She plummeted down towards the azure water. By twisting slightly and throwing her fingers back, Nourma send a gust across her body, catching her wings and lifting her up into the air.

It had worked; to her jubilation, Nourma was flying. Not some training lap under constant supervision, but actually soaring through the air like an eagle-stallion. She felt elated. Her body responded fluidly to her every command. If Nourma wanted to drift right, she knew exactly the correct way to tilt her left arm and lower her right leg. If she wanted to climb, her feet dipped down and her chin raised up unconsciously at exactly the right angle. The salty breeze from the waves below her stung Nourma's face, but she gladly endured it.

Once Nourma's head cleared, she started thinking of the way to Mehdi. It was important, she reminded herself, to stay close to the water. The red flight suits stood in stark contrast to the harbor, and she was eager to avoid detection. The Sunset Range was southeast, so Nourma banked to her left. Once she was away from Republic City she would find the monorail track and follow it to the landslide.

"Rockfall," Nourma corrected herself. Once there, she would board the train, find Mehdi, and get him to safety. Sifu Opal would be angry, she thought, but she would also be impressed. Nourma had heard stories of the adventures Opal and her friend had been on when they were kids. Opal would understand.

Nourma could see a glint of sunlight reflecting off something shiny. That was sure to be the track. Nourma adjusted course slightly, but her right arm dipped down to far, sending Nourma wobbling dangerously to the right. She tried to steady herself with a firm blast, but she overcompensated and sent herself tumbling down into the surf.

Sputtering, Nourma broke the surface and started to tread water. She needed to get in the air again. Mustering all her strength, Nourma sent a gale of air shooting out beneath her. She rose maybe an arm's length into the air before the cavity of bubbles underneath her collapsed, and she fell back down underneath the waves.

Nourma broke the surface again, coughing, her hair draped over her eyes.. The restless energy had left her, replaced with cold, numb emptiness. Nourma realized how very tired her limbs had become. But her lungs still had enough energy for her to tilt her head up and scream.

"WHY? WHY GIVE ME THIS POWER IF I CAN'T USE IT? WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?"

The silent sky gave no answer. The waves rolled on unchanged. Nourma treaded and fumed in impotent rage. Then she started swimming towards the far shore, her tears flowing into the salty sea.

* * *

The monorail sped on through the crisp, clear morning. Brilliant rays cast by the rising sun drew deep shadows in the rugged cliffs. When the rays did find the rock face, they illuminated dazzling veins of mica, quartz, and granite hundreds of measures high. The Rocky Run was a triumph of earthbending and metalbending, cutting through the treacherous and beautiful Sunset Range. Passengers on the monorail were treated to some of the finest sights in the Earth Confederacy: towering spires and plummeting cliffs amidst a stunning geologic mosaic.

For Mehdi, riding in the dark cargo hold wedged between a crate of widgets and an industrial blower, the sights passed by unobserved. He had relished the task of picking up special Airbender equipment from Zaofu, seeing it as a chance to explore more of the world. He had said as much to Nourma, bragging about travelling around the world while she was stuck in some dusty classroom.

But the reality was far different. He had arrived in Zaofu in the dead of night, and the city's massive platinum domes and beautiful sculpted architecture were shrouded in darkness. Mehdi only had time enough to verify the equipment, scrawl his name on the paperwork, and board the boxcar to secure his inventory for the long ride back to Republic City.

The train started a slow, tight turn, following the path of the canyon. The contents inside the various crates shifted slightly, causing Mehdi to look up from his book, surreptitiously borrowed from the Academy library. His small electric lantern cast a faint, dusty light in the hold.

Suddenly Mehdi heard a penetrating boom from somewhere in front of him, slowly devolving into a dull rumble. He felt the vibrations roll through the heavy air, as sharper vibrations pierced the rail underneath him. Mehdi jolted up as the train gradually came to a stop

Mehdi looked around. It was very still, save for the faint sounds of the worried commotion from the passenger car behind him. He started climbing up the crates and straps towards the ceiling hatch, marked by a thin perimeter of sunlight. Something was happening and Mehdi wasn't going to wait around in the dark to discover what it was.

He was reaching for the hatch release when he heard louder, more urgent screams and yells emanating from the passengers. Mehdi froze. The noise was stilled with a curt shout. There were footsteps in the vestibule. Mehdi heard a metallic _ka-thunk_ , signalling the decoupling of the passenger cars from the front of the train. The rear door slowly opened. Instinctively Mehdi jumped back down and switched off his lantern just as the intruders switched on theirs.

Hiding behind a rough wooden crate, Mehdi followed the interplay of dull light and shifting shadows on the ceiling as the lanterns moved around the car. He tried to quiet his breathing. Luckily, Mehdi's new carmates wore heavy boots that clomped on the steel floor and made no attempt to be discreet with their speech.

"Lee, go up and get this train moving again. Have the conductor get to the drop off point and bring him back here."

There were assorted footsteps spreading out across the hold. Mehdi silently snuck back and wedged himself between a large box and the steel wall, trying to keep out of the growing light.

"Hey boss, I found it!"

Now the footsteps hurried to the opposite end of the car. There were muted cheers as the straps were loosened and the lid pried open. The train started moving again with a rough jerk, and Mehdi steadied himself against the cold interior wall. He tried to listen as hard as he could, as if hearing would give him understanding.

There were running footsteps slapping along the corridor. "Boss!" announced a breathless voice, "that crazy old conductor! She locked the train into forward gear. I can't use the brakes!"

The boss' voice was icy calm. "Where is she now?"

"She jumped!"

"She jumped?"

"Yeah, well, she had a parachute."

There was a smattering of low curses, including a young voice muttering, "that would have been nice for us to have."

"No matter!" the boss shouted, "we can drop the cargo on the move. Get those lines ready." Mehdi heard the sounds of zippered bags opening and nylon ropes uncoiling.

A small voice spoke up. "Hey boss, how are we gonna get the cargo past all these other boxes?"

"Don't think if you can help it, Ban," came the reply, "you're better at bending than brains. We'll dump all the boxes out the door. We're only getting paid for this crate. Those uptight Confederacy snobs can always buy more stuff. Open the door!"

Rich light flooded the car as the crisp mountain air swept away the stale darkness Mehdi had been accustomed to for the past nine hours. He squinted and shivered. From his vantage point he could see the eleven or twelve thieves clearly for the first time. They were dressed in diverse clothing in various states of disrepair. Their hair was unkempt and their faces were sallow. Their boss was a broad, strapping man with a bushy black beard wearing a patchy gray suit. Mehdi looked down at his own attire and silently cursed. Today was the wrong day to be wearing bright orange robes.

The boss told two women to push the nearest crate out the door. The crate moved slowly to the opening, teetered on the edge, and toppled over the side. "I sure hope nobody wanted those cabbages!" cackled one of the thieves.

Mehdi paid no attention to the quip, for he had just glimpsed the stunning expanse of the Sunset Range. The climbing sun turned the jagged peaks and towering pillars to the west striking hues of red, orange, and purple. The train continued slowly on towards the breach in the track as crate after crate fell out the door. But for a few seconds, Mehdi was transfixed on the most beautiful view he had ever seen.

"Hey!"

He had stared too long. One of the thieves noticed him and ran towards the hiding place. The other thieves turned and looked at the unwanted observer. Mehdi ducked back between the crate and the wall wedging himself out of the thief's grasping arm.

Suddenly Mehdi felt the walls of his enclosure bearing down on him. He grimaced in pain as the side of the crate bulged out towards his chest.

"C'mon kid, get out of there," said the boss. "We don't wanna hurt you, but we will," there was a menacing pause, "if you don't cooperate."

As if to emphasize this the crate pushed further towards Mehdi and a yelp escaped his lips. The metal retreated and Mehdi was free to scramble out of the crawlspace into the waiting arms of the thieves. The boss looked down on him.

"Tell me truthfully boy. What are you doing in here?"

"Nothing. What are you doing in here?"

The boss grinned and grabbed Mehdi's robes, marching him to the open door. The stiff breeze blew back Mehdi's hair, and the fresh air felt cold on his face.

"No more sass. Tell me the truth!"

Mehdi was about to reply with a witty retort when he glanced down and the words died in his throat. He gazed into the abysmal depths of the canyon, slowly passing by as the train continued on towards the gap. The bottom yawed up at him, and Mehdi could not even gage the distance. The highest he had ever been was the top of his village's radio tower, and that was a infinitesimal spire compared to this. He opened and closed his mouth wordlessly like a dying koi-salmon.

The thieves laughed heartily. The boss leaned in close to Mehdi, and Mehdi winced at his vile breath. "Listen here boy. I'm here to do a job. You're a complic-"

A blur of red whizzed past Mehdi, blasting the boss back into the car. Mehdi teetered on the edge unsupported for a terrifying moment, terror filling the depths of his stomach. He was just starting to fall when another red blur collided with him. He staggered back into a nearby crate and looked at his rescuer. To his supreme surprise, it was Sifu Opal. Her normally kind emerald eyes blazed with fury.

"Get down!" she whispered harshly. "There's going to be trouble!"

The boxcar exploded with the caconophy of combat. Bursts of fire were quickly extinguished by stronger bursts of wind from the rapidly arriving Airbenders. Opal shoved Mehdi behind a crate and deflected an incoming punch to the head. She ducked, rotating on her heel, and blasted the attacker into the ceiling, watching her fall back heavily to the floor.

Mehdi crouched low to the ground and moved quickly, looking for cover. While crossing an aisle he accidentally tripped up one of the thieves. The thief flailed his arms, trying to regain his balance. An Airbender grasped the thief's arm tightly and swung him face first into a crate. The thief sent an errant fireburst behind him, but the Airbender dodged it easily and replied with a sustained rush from his outstretched arms, pinning the thief against the crate's webbing. With a few deft moves, the Airbender wrapped the Firebender's wrists with cargo straps, securing him to the crate.

Mehdi heard the boss' voice yelling hoarsely above the din: "Get the goods out of here!" There was a whir of rapidly spinning rope, and Mehdi saw a metal crate push its way past benders and boxes before falling out the door. Its descent was slowed by a hastily rigged set of ropes and pulleys anchored to the ceiling of the car.

A scraping and screeching sound of twisting metal filled the air, along with a sharp jolt,. There was a brief expectant silence in the car, followed by a massive, shrieking explosion from outside. The echoes reverberated around the canyon as everybody looked around, searching for the source. A thief poked his head outside, paled, and shouted back into the car. "The locomotive's gone over! We've gotta get out of here!"

Two voice spoke next. The boss yelled "get to the crate!" while Opal shouted "out the back; get everyone on the tracks!"

The fighting halted as the car rolled steadily onwards. The Airbenders grabbed their bound prisoners and ran towards the back door. The thieves ran towards the open side door and the rapidly descending crate. Mehdi now noticed that the thieves all wore a harness strapped around their waists. Three thieves clipped onto the whirring rope and slid down. Mehdi turned to follow the Airbenders out of the back door when he ran face first into the boss. The boss raised his massive hand to slap Mehdi out of the way, but was knocked down when a metal bar struck his back. Mehdi watched as the wielder of the bar stepped out from the shadows. He recognized the face: he recalled a raised scimitar, a kneeling figure, a defiant glare. It was Ali.

There was another jerk, another scream of rent metal. The boss rose slowly, grasping his lower back, as another car crashed into the canyon below. Ali raised the bar again.

"I'm taking over this crew," Ali said, his voice quivering slightly.

"You little traitor," the boss spat back. "You're a fool if you think you can lead this team. But you're a bigger fool," he stepped towards Ali, "for attacking a Metalbender with an iron pole."

Ali froze and his eyes filled with fear. The boss jumped at Ali and ripped the bar in two, leaving only a small hilt in Ali's hands. The boss raised the pole high. Ali cowered and put his arms in front of his face.

At that moment, Mehdi jumped on the boss' back and wrapped his arms around the neck. The boss flailed for a moment, then froze when he felt another jerk, stronger this time, and heard another crash. Ali ran towards the door, fiddling with his harness. The boss cursed and made one last attempt to throw Mehdi off, but the Hami tribe boy held on as tight as a croc-piranha. The boss then bent the metal bar tightly around Mehdi's wrists, making Mehdi cry out in pain. The lumbering man ran towards the door and started to hook up to the rope. Mehdi could see Ali descending below them, and the crate further below, and the bottom further still. He tried to wrangle free, but the bar held him securely to the thief. He moaned nervously as the boss readied himself to step out.

"Well kid, you wanted to interfere," the boss chuckled. "Now look where it got you. Hold on tight!"

They stepped off. Mehdi shut his eyes and listened to the hissing rope fly by. There was a sharp pull in the rope and another massive crash, signalling another lost car. Eventually he felt them slowing, followed by a rough landing on the swinging crate. Mehdi opened his eyes.

Six thieves, including Ali and the boss, had made it out. They were strapped securely to the crate, most looking up at the car above them rolling towards the gap, or down at the approaching ground. Ali was cowering at the furthest corner of the crate.

The boss unhooked himself from the rope, tore a jagged piece of metal off the top of the crate, and advanced on Ali. Ali clambered gingerly over the side, still fastened to the crate, trying to retreat. The boss knelt down and held the serrated metal to Ali's rope.

"I'll cut you down Ali. The fall may kill you, but if it doesn't, I'll still leave you to die, just like you were-"

The crate rocked to one side, and the boss stood up to steady himself. Mehdi looked behind him and saw Sifu Opal, defiantly raising her fists.

"You have one of my Acolytes. I'd like him back please."

One of the Firebenders raised her hand to strike, but the boss gave her a smack on the head. "Don't be stupid! No firebending here!"

Opal glanced down at the contents of the crate, and her eyes widened in surprise and fear. Seeing a moment of opportunity, the boss lunged at Opal with the makeshift knife. Opal spun to one side, dodging the thrust. She blocked a kick from one of the seated thieves behind her as she readied for the next attack. The boss attempted to turn around, but Mehdi's extra weight caused him to lose his balance, and he toppled screaming over the side.

Mehdi felt the wind rushing past him. He saw with incredible clarity the billowing black smoke of the ruined locomotive rising against the bright blue sky. He saw the fiery canyon walls rush past them. Mehdi tensed his muscles and prepared for the impact. He hoped it would not hurt too much.

He realized Opal was following them down, her wingsuit aerodynamically compressed, looking like an red arrow tip speeding towards them. In an instant she was there, attaching a thin rope to the boss' harness with a metallic _clink_. She spread her arms, and her wingsuit billowed out, the rope trailing upwards. Mehdi felt the rope grow taunt, and then a sharp tug as they swung in a wide arc away from the ground, just barely scraping the tops of the scruffy pines at the bottom of the canyon.

They rose upwards, their ascent gradually slowing as they passed Opal. She seemed to hang in midair, then rapidly accelerate past them again towards a small ledge on the canyon wall. Just as the thief and the boy were about to fall back to the ground, they felt the rope jerk sharply, arresting their fall. Mehdi looked up to see Opal securing the line to the rock face. They were safe.

There was another crash: the final car had tumbled off the tracks. Mehdi searched the ground behind and below him. Relieved, he saw that the thieves had survived the short fall and were now unloading the crate hurriedly, carrying what looked like black tubes into the recesses of the canyon. The boss was muttering and moaning as they dangled and twisted on the end of the line. Mehdi wanted to say something proud and condescending to him, but he was too tired and scared. Despite his shaking limbs, sprained wrists, and racing heart, Mehdi still was thankful to see at least one picturesque sight on his trip.

* * *

They returned to the Academy late that night. The Airbenders had searched for hours for the remaining thieves, to no avail. When they came across the tracks of ostrich-steeds, they knew it was hopeless. The Airbenders could have searched for days in the labyrinthine passages and find nothing. A team from the railway company came along and rescued the stranded monorail passengers, and then the Airbenders and their prisoners.

Mehdi endured tiring hours of police statements and medical attention. He tried to wave the healers away, but the very act of moving his hands caused him pain. He was relieved when the ferry arrived at the island and its comfortable, familiar buildings came into view through the dense fog.

Mehdi was sure Nourma would be asleep, so after a final concerned inquiry from Opal, he trudged sleepily to his dormitory. He was surprised to see Nourma sitting on his cot, illuminated by a small lantern.

"Hey! How you doing?" Mehdi said automatically.

Nourma rose and ran to Mehdi, hugging him tight. Mehdi winced at the pain. Nourma felt this and withdrew. She burst into tears when she saw Mehdi's bandaged wrists.

"Hey, hey, it's not as bad as it looks," soothed Mehdi, rubbing Nourma's arms. "I don't even need them, but the healers insisted."

"It's not that," said Nourma softly, wiping her eyes. They sat down on the hard mattress. "I tried to rescue you. Opal said not to, but I still tried." She paused. "I'm glad you're alright, by the way. I really am." Mehdi smiled and nodded, encouraging her to go on.

"When I heard about the explosion and you on the train, I snuck out to go save you." She sniffed. "Oh, it sounds so stupid. But I felt this incredible power in me. And I could fly! But the power left me. And what good it this power if I can't use it to help my friends? So what if I can bend fire and air, like some sort of freak? What does that make me?" She looked at Mehdi with questioning eyes.

Mehdi's own eyes blinked heavily. Then he hugged Nourma. "You are still my friend. And you'll always be my friend. No matter what happens. You are still you."

Nourma grinned into Mehdi's shoulder. Then she heard heavy breathing. She drew back and saw that Mehdi's eyes had closed and he was sleeping peacefully. Nourma lay him softly down on the cot and punched his shoulder affectionately. _Thank you_.

* * *

The room was empty when Dashtu returned from his shift at Po's. Ali had still not returned. He had not shown up to work, but Po did not seem very concerned. The rising sun crept through the small paper window, illuminating the dusty air. Dashtu slumped against the wall and tried to think.

Going to the police wasn't an option. They did not have the proper paperwork for residing in the city (neither did most residents of the Dregs), so calling attention to themselves would result in trouble. Ali didn't have any hangouts; the job kept both of them too busy for leisure. Maybe…

Dashtu's thoughts were interrupted by the wall behind him vibrating slightly, sending swirls of dust into the room. He stepped back and stared at the wall. A long, thin crack formed, crossing the wall in seconds. There was a loud creak from the staircase below.

Suddenly the wall disintegrated before his eyes, sending a blast of sand into his face. He crouched down and was immediately knocked over by a dark shape. He scrambled to his feet and raced towards the door. Dashtu collided with someone and felt his arm being pinned behind his back. He cried out in pain.

"The State is arresting you," he heard a burly voice behind him say, "on suspicion of criminal activity. You still retain all the rights of a Citizen of the United Republics..."

Dashtu stopped listening to the officer as he struggled in vain. _But I'm not a Citizen_ , Dashtu thought grimly. _I'm just a poor exiled Umara boy_. He hoped that his brother was safe. Dashtu stopped resisting as the handcuffs were slipped on. He hung his head. There was no going home now.


	8. The Secret City

BOOK ONE: VOID

CHAPTER EIGHT: THE SECRET CITY

The opulence of the office hidden in the back of Chin's Hatchery always filled Ali with desire and loathing. The gilded statues, rich red carpeting and burgundy drapes, and ornate artificial waterfall called out to him and showed him what he could one day achieve. But those same thoughts turned to what Ali had in Ky Shek, and what he had lost. The luxurious surroundings reminded him that he still lived in a ramshackle room in a squalorous slum. He tried to hide the scowl on his face as he marched towards the center of the cavernous room.

It had been a two day journey on ostrich-steeds, but they had arrived safely, and quietly, in Republic City. The crew, under the new leadership of Ali, had hidden the stolen cargo somewhere safe. Ali had not even had time to go home and change; he still wore his sweaty clothes and hip harness. He wanted to make an impression. Dashtu would worry, but as long as he was ignorant of Ali's criminal dealings, he was safe.

His brother still thought that Ali was gainfully employed at Po's, toiling over scalding water and scrubbing blackened pans. The truth was Ali had only used the demeaning job as a path to the city's most notorious criminal organization: the Four Corners. Dashtu meant well, but Ali knew that they were never going to rise to their former status washing dishes. It fell to Ali to do the dirty work, and that meant, for the moment, feigning subservience to the rich and powerful.

Ali stopped in front of Boss Chin's carved mahogany desk and gave a nervous bow. Chin, slumped in a plush red leather chair, glared back at him.

"I apologize, but half of my crew was captured. The Airbenders came in the middle of the job."

"I don't want your apology. I want my cargo. And where is Chu-yin?"

Ali's mind flashed back to the man he had betrayed, advancing on him with a jagged shard. "He was captured as well," Ali said after a moment, trying to sound sympathetic. "And the cargo is still on its way to the city. I rode ahead to give you the news myself."

Chin grunted and stared at the desert boy in front of him. Ali's clothes were ripped and stained, and his face was disheveled. But his eyes were fresh and eager.

A plump finger was dislodged from a carton of crispy seaweed and pointed at Ali. "You did well in protecting the cargo from the Airbenders. I am sending you on another assignment. Ryu is planning a heist on Lion-Hound Holdings tomorrow morning. You will go with him. Go meet up with his gang, and he'll take care of you. If you do well on this job, perhaps I can give you a crew of your own."

Ali smiled broadly and bowed. He turned smartly on his heel and strode out of the office. Chin watched him go, disgust written on his pudgy face. Chin saw the deviousness and treachery within the Umara boy. He recognized these traits because the gang leader shared the same qualities as Ali. Chin had rose to power via backstabbing and ruthlessness. But he wasn't going to let some dirty whelp get the better of him. Chin reclined deeper into his chair and resumed devouring his salty snacks. Ali would go on the heist, but he wouldn't be coming back.

* * *

The Executive Center was the ugliest building Mehdi had ever seen. The architect had wanted to include architectural styles from around the world, so the squat building featured a Fire Nation pagoda, a bulbous Water Tribe spire, and hundreds of sorry Airbender flags hanging limply in the still air. Even so, Mehdi didn't mind his surroundings. He was going to meet the President.

After arriving at Nourma's weekly session with Doctor Je Sig, Sifu Opal made an apology. She had an errand to attend to, and she needed Mehdi's assistance. It wasn't until they were back on the train, passing by the Central Reserve enroute to the government district, that Opal told Mehdi the truth. She needed to talk to the President of the United Republics. The President Park was an old friend of Opal's, indeed, they had trained together as novice Airbenders. But whereas Opal had gone on to become an Airbending master, Park had "shunned the razor", declining the traditional arrow tattoo, and had pursued a successful career in politics.

As they walked through the Executive Center, passing decorative columns made of wood, stone, metal, and glass, Mehdi started to worry about protocol. He was just an rural desert boy meeting a head of state. What if he said the wrong thing, or didn't bow low enough? That would be an embarrassment for not only him, but the entire Hami tribe. He decided to ask Opal, striding alongside him hefting a bulky satchel.

"Um, Sifu Opal? Should I kneel or bow when the president comes in? Should I call her 'Your Excellency' or 'Your Eminence'?"

Opal stifled a laugh, and then turned serious. She led Mehdi to a dark alcove behind a statue of an older Water Tribe member solemnly signing some papers. "I'm sorry," she said, "you're not going to meet the president today."

Mehdi tried to hide his disappointment. Of course it was too good to be true. Opal looked around to ensure that there were no eavesdroppers, and reached into her satchel. She pulled out a strange contraption. To Mehdi, it looked like two enormous spools of thread attached to a black box, about the size of a briefcase. But instead of thread, the spools contained some sort of brown tape. Wires and buttons were scattered all around the device.

"Have you seen one of these before?" Asked Opal. When Mehdi shook his head Opal continued. "This is a machine that records sound and stores the information. I need you to hide somewhere in the office and use this to record what we say." She place what looked like a large metal spoon in Mehdi's hand. "Point this at whomever is talking. Do you understand?"

"I dunno about recording the president's secret conversations," said Mehdi, "haven't people gotten in trouble for that?" Opal gave him a curt shake of her head.

After a pause Mehdi shrugged and said, "Okay, I'll do it."

Opal grinned and too Mehdi's hand. They entered the waiting room, a hideously wallpapered beige-green antechamber. She ushered Mehdi behind one of the large potted plants that lined the room. Mehdi watched as she pushed a button on the device and the spools started to silently rotate. Opal put her finger to her lips and winked at Mehdi. Then she went to the overstuffed couch (also green) and waited motionlessly.

A few minutes passed before they heard footsteps outside. There was a pause, then the door blasted open with a great gust of wind. The leaves of Mehdi's plant bent to the side, threatening to expose him. Opal leaped into the air, twisting her body, and threw her arms towards the door. The intruder was caught up in a cyclone that Opal sustained, rotating her hands methodically. Mehdi was about to leap out and lend assistance when he heard the stranger laughing.

"Alright, alright Opal! Don't you know it's a high crime to assault the President of the United Republics?"

Opal smiled and let the cyclone die down, depositing President Park gently onto the carpet. She had a serene but serious face, and was wearing a plain brown suit. She adjusted her precise black hair and hugged Opal.

"It's been far too long," said the president. "And apparently I haven't been practicing enough."

"That's perfectly understandable," replied the Airbending master. "I imagine you don't have much free time."

"I always have time for you." Park motioned for Opal to sit while reclining in a stately armchair across from the couch. "What brings you here?"

"Business, unfortunately. I was at the track explosion to the south."

Park frowned and nodded. "I heard about that. The reports said there all the passengers were rescued safely. How were the Airbenders?"

"No injuries to any of the parties, but half the robbers escaped with their prize. What concerns me more is what was in that crate they stole."

Park's eyes widened and her face blanched. "So, you saw that."

Opal grasped her friend's hand. "Shot-tubes. Park, why?"

The president stood up, disengaging her hand, and started pacing. "You know why. The Fire Nation and Earth Confederacy already have thousands of them. We cannot afford to be left behind."

"We're not at war with those countries. Or any country, for that matter."

"And we won't ever be, if we stay strong." Her words came out smooth and polished, as if she had rehearsed them. "These weapons give us power we can use to secure peace."

Opal stood up and shot back. "No, they give you a power you cannot control. Criminals already have your shot-tubes. What's next, the police armed with those things? Citizens next?"

"If that's what it takes to keep us safe!" Park yelled. Then she snapped her mouth shut and Mehdi saw her face redden. She sighed and sat down on the couch, head in her hands. Opal sat down silently next to her.

"I wish I could be an idealist like you. I wish I could live nonviolence and forgiveness and be pure and good. But the world is more complicated than that."

Opal lay a soft hand on Park's back. "I know. And that's why you have me. I realize that you can't apply a pure philosophy to a complicated world. But the ideal way gives you something to strive for. And together, we'll find a way forw…"

There was a soft knock and a panel on the opposite wall slid silently open. In stepped a man wearing the brightest clothes Mehdi had ever seen. His immaculate white suit, tightly trimmed white beard, and closely cropped white hair stood in stark contrast to the drab room.

"Madame President, Master Airbender," he said, bowing slightly to the latter, "forgive the intrusion. My associates have just completed their investigation regarding the Rocky Run incident."

President Park sat up swiftly and motioned to the chair opposite them. "Colonel Lee. Please have a seat."

The colonel bowed again and sat down stiffly in the armchair. "This information is rather sensitive, and could be improper to outside ears."

Park glanced at Opal. "Sifu Opal is a close friend and an airbending master. You can speak freely in front of her."

Mehdi shifted nervously behind the plant. He had a feeling that the president would have a very different outlook if she knew about the recording device in the room. However, the spools kept turning as Colonel Lee began his report.

"Madame President, this attack was perpetrated by the Four Corners criminal organization. The crew's leader and six members were apprehended due to the valiant effort of our heroic Airbenders." He gave a nod towards Opal. Opal continued to listen with a neutral face.

"The most pertinent question is how these criminal acquired the information to execute this devious heist. The location and contents of the purloined crate was a closely guarded secret known only to a few." The colonel retrieved a pearl handkerchief from his coat pocket and took a delicate sniff before continuing.

"My sources have confirmed that there is a foreign agent placed within your administration, Madame President. This agent is loyal to the Earth Confederacy and serves its designs by subterfuge. The theft of our sensitive cargo is the latest of this agent's betrayals, but certainly not the first."

Opal spoke up in irritation. "This is ridiculous! Why would the Confederacy do such a thing? And what proof do you have to make such a bold accusation?"

Colonel Lee replied calmly. "Master Airbender, you are wise in non-violent philosophy and I respect your work. But there exists a world beyond your teachings, hidden from all but the keenest observers. This realm consists of interconnecting webs, entangling everything around it. A seemingly unimportant event, say, the ore find in the south, pulls a strand. Ba Sing Se feels the pull, and pulls on its own strands. This theft is the result of the straining web, Master Airbender, and it will pull even more strands. We are all caught in the web, but only a few can see the actions and reactions. You may not be able to perceive this, but you must respect the outcome.

"As for my proof," he stared fiercely at Opal, his coal black eyes blazing with an inner fire. "Due to the sensitive nature of my intelligence, I would hesitate to discuss my sources with anyone but the president herself."

Opal turned to Park. "Please, don't do anything rash. Don't let this man make you replace peace with fear."

Colonel Lee stood up, straightening his jacket. "You overestimate my role, Master Airbender. I simply counsel the president on matters of my craft. I will always respect her decision and follow her orders."

"Park, please…"

Park now stood up and stood beside the colonel. "Thank you for your advice, Opal. Please come back tomorrow and we'll discuss this further."

Opal opened her mouth, then slowly closed it. She watched dejectedly as Colonel Lee and President Park walked out of the room. The Airbender leaned back and exhaled heavily. Mehdi crawled out from behind the plant toting the recorder.

"Did you get all that?" Opal asked wearily.

"I think so," replied Mehdi. "I pointed the spoon thingy at the people." He sat down on the couch. "Are you…" he paused, "are you alright, Sifu Opal?"

"Yes," said Opal. But even the rudimentary sound recorder picked up the lie in that answer. And as the tape continued to turn around the spool, Nourma sat at the University across the city and dictated Linus' story.

* * *

The previous years had been hard but rewarding for Linus. The Avatar had mastered all four elements, and he had found inner balance. Then he had begun the much harder task of bringing balance to the world.

Linus and his mentor, Etzl, had first tried to fight injustice wherever they went. It went well at first, and they gathered followers willing to help. But they soon found that wherever they pushed down one evil, another evil popped up somewhere else, like a den of prairie-badgers.

They tried a new strategy. Linus and his followers (he hated to refer to them as "his") found a fertile land in the northwest of the continent. There were swift rivers and cool lakes. There was rich, black soil in which grew luscious yams and hearty potatoes. But most importantly, there was a series of underground caverns that provided excellent protection and defence against the roving bandits. After their short battles, Linus offered the defeated bandits the chance to join the community. "After all," he would say, "the best weapon against hunger is a spade, not a sword." Linus had even converted most of the people to a vegetarian diet, although he knew that the Waterbenders could never turn away from their hunger for meat.

One bright morning Linus was teaching the young daughter of a former bandit the proper way to plant potatoes. "It doesn't look like much now," he said, watching her push the piece into the springy dirt, "but from that small scrap of potato, a new plant will grow and give us even more potatoes. But it requires some things to grow strong."

Linus patted the soil firmly. "It needs earth to live in." He made a small flame in his hand. "It needs the warmth of the sun." He placed his other palm to the ground and sent a short burst of wind into the ground, aerating the soil. "It needs air to breathe. And…"

The girl flicked her wrist and splayed her fingers, bending a mouthful of water from her canteen. The water hovered over the ground for a moment before splashing down and dyeing the ground an even darker shade of deep brown. The girl shot a wide grin at Linus and said, "water to drink."

Linus nodded his head. "That's right. Plants need all four elements to survive. Just like people. Just like the world." He scratched his bald scalp marked with a fading blue tattoo. "There's some deeper meaning in that, but I've forgotten what it was."

As the girl was moving on to plant the next seed, Etzl came hobbling over. He was ancient but hale, and twice as ugly as before. But he was Linus' dearest friend and closest advisor.

"There's a group coming near the south boulder field that wants to speak to you."

Linus rose, wiping the dirt from his knees. "Bandits?"

Etzl shook his head. "An army's more like it. Asked for you by name."

Linus sighed. "Get the children into the caves. Have everyone go to their stations. Oh, and have Kyuk prepare extra soup for tonight. We may have some new residents by the time this is over."

Etzl gave an exaggerated bow, knowing that Linus hated it, and hobbled away with the farmgirl. Linus started to walk south, past plentiful crops and rolling hills. Linus beamed with pride seeing the fruits of his labor, before quickly reminding himself that the people did the hard work. He only showed them the way. Linus' knees started to ache; he was not as young and spry as he used to be.

When Linus finally arrived at the boulder fields, he was quite exhausted. He took a look at the "army" Etzl had spoken of. He saw a host of dirty, beragged people with grim faces, holding black banners that fluttered limply in the morning breeze. They ushered Linus into a hastily erected tent. He came face to face with their leader, an old bald woman, wrinkled and scarred, with cold gray eyes. Linus gasped in shock. It was Eru.

"Hello, Linus the Pupil," Eru croaked in a mocking voice.

Linus gave a short bow. "Master Eru."

"I told you to never call me that." Eru started to pace around the tent, circling Linus like a stalking coyote-fox. "I'm impressed, Linus, I really am. You've made a good life here. You've brought peace and order to this section of the world."

Linus noticed that Eru had crudely painted over her Airbending tattoos, making them black. He saw that a few of her bodyguards in the tent were also sporting black arrows. His heart sank.

"Is that why you've brought an army to our home," he inquired lightly, "to tell me congratulations?"

Eru smirked. "I've come here on serious matters. You are harboring some criminals within your sanctuary." She withdrew a scroll of parchment and read off a list of names. When she was finished, she turned her gray eyes to Linus. "We simply need you to hand over these monsters so we can give them justice, and we'll leave you in peace."

Linus recognized a few of the names. One of them happened to be the Waterbender farmgirl's father. All were hardworking members of the community. He cast a wary eye at the glaring faces around him. "What sort of 'justice' do you have in mind?"

There was a wicked grin from Eru. "The justice of the sword."

Linus looked around at the hungry, desperate people that made up Eru's followers. While he was busy building a society here, he had neglected the rest of the world. _I'm sorry,_ he thought, _I failed you all_. He shook his head. "I told you before. Killing people isn't the right way. You are welcome to put down your weapons and join us. We need strong benders to work the land. You would be a great help here. But," he pointed a trembling finger at Eru, "if you try to attack us, you'll find that us peaceful farmers can put up a fight."

The tent laughed. Eru wiped tears of mirth from her eyes. "Do you think I'm going to be intimidated by an old man in dirty robes?"

Linus looked down at his tattered clothing, stained from soil and sweat. "I'd rather have dirtstains than bloodstains," he said softly.

The laughter ceased. "Very well," said Eru in a chilling voice, "crawl back to your caves. If you're not on our side, then you're my enemy. Tell those murderers and thieves you call friends that tonight, justice is coming for them."

* * *

"All the ripe crops are in, the gates are closed, and all the people accounted for," Etzl reported to Linus as they strolled slowly past the crude defences.

"Good," said Linus, "it's sundown. The attack will begin at any moment."

"We're ready."

The caverns were filled with a multitude of crystals that had the curious property of glowing with a soft green light. This had the welcome effect of bestowing calmness on the huddled masses preparing to defend the caves. There were farmers and bakers and potters, Firebenders, Earthbenders, Waterbenders, and Airbenders. All living together in harmony, when a few years before they would have fought and stole from each other. Linus clambered up on a rock to address the crowd. They looked at him with eager faces.

"Listen. Um, there's a big army out there. It's probably the largest group of bandits we've ever faced. They're probably going to come through the main gate. But a group might attack through the north gate, so defend that too. Oh and as usual, no killing. Unless you're in danger of getting killed yourself. Ah, Waterbenders should go with Firebenders, to control any attacks that get out of hand. And, uh, be careful out there."

He climbed down from the rock to the sounds of confused whispering. "Inspiring speech," Etzl whispered to him, "they'll remember that for all time."

A strapping young woman sprang up on the rock and began addressing the crowd. She used words like "freedom" and "sacrifice" and "duty", punctuating her speech with blasts of fire. Linus recalled her face but couldn't remember her name. There were too many young people now, but that was a good thing. They could run things now. Maybe it was time for he and Etzl to go off and start a new settlement, to bring peace to another corner of the world. The woman was getting a good reaction from the crowd. They had recovered from Linus' lackluster comments and were ready to fight.

A loud crack interrupted the Firebender's inspiring speech, and all eyes turned towards the sound. The rock wall exploded inward, sending stones and dust onto the waiting crowd. The enemy benders swarmed out of the jagged hole in the wall, flinging rocks and boulders. They were met with blasts of fire, water, earth, and air. The brave non-benders joined the fray, armed only with crude clubs and farming equipment.

Linus jumped up and sent a gale towards the attackers, blowing half of them off their feet. He stamped the ground and squatted with arms outstretched, bringing a shower of blinding dust down from the roof. An attacker noticed Linus and bent a spurt of water towards him, freezing it into a deadly icicle. Linus bent the icicle, sending it in an arc around him. The icicle melted and shot it back, blasting the attacker to the ground.

The next assailant sprang up, axe in hand. Linus blew harmless fire at him, making him step back. The Avatar capitalized on the man's momentarily off-balanced stance and shifted the ground under his feet, making him fall on his back. Linus quickly bent rock around his wrists and ankles, pinning him in place.

Linus felt a hard blow across his back and he fell to his knees, winded. He saw in the pale green light a bandit raising her club, preparing to bring it down on his head. Linus bent a slab of rock up between him and the bandit to ward off the blow. He punched the slab, sending a rock barreling into the bandit's gut. She doubled over and Linus rose shakily to his feet. A blast of air sent her flying back into a puddle, which Linus froze, trapping her hands and feet.

Linus turned and saw one of his own people raising a deadly boulder over a stricken bandit. He quickly punched towards them, pulverizing the boulder into dust as it came down on the bandit's head. Linus airblasted the attempted murderer back, thankful to save at least one life.

There was a sharp agonizing pain in his chest. Linus looked down to see the black arrow protruding from his breast. He scanned the cave slowly, trying to bear the pain as best he could. The wooden palisades and gates were engulfed in flames, casting evil, flickering shadows on the fighters. The inward pressing invaders were awash in a fierce orange light, secure in their victory. Linus gazed at his hands. The blue tattoos seemed so much clearer now. It was so unfair that all their hard work should be for nothing. Violence and chaos should not be allowed to win. The pain shot through him one more time…

...and Linus sank to his knees. The familiar green glow shone on the invaders as they retreated. The throbbing pain was less intense now. Linus again looked at his hands. The palms were hard and cracked, a testament to his long years of toil. _There was so much more I could have done_ , he lamented. Linus fell to the rough stone floor and breathed his last. The darkness closed in around him as the light welled up within him.

* * *

"...and then I was hit by arrow and died," Linus concluded. "That's pretty much the end of my story, although I can go into more detail about crop rotations and…" He noticed the tears in Nourma's eyes as Doctor Je Sig looked on in confusion, waiting for Nourma to finish. "What? I hope me dying isn't surprising. Ten-thousand-year-old spirits are usually dead."

Nourma let out something between a laugh and a sob. "Shut up, you crazy old coot." She turned to Je Sig and wiped away a tear. "He died during the battle. Someone shot him with an arrow."

Je Sig nodded respectfully to where he assumed Linus was standing. "Thank you for your noble sacrifice, Avatar. Your efforts have not been in vain." Linus rolled his eyes.

"But wait!" cried a muffled voice from a protruding lump in the couch. "What about Eru?"

Je Sig leaned forward excitedly. "Yes! What happened to her and her army and your settlement?"

"What about your epic battle?" exclaimed the lump. "You needed the final conflict between master and apprentice, between light and dark, between good and evil!"

Nourma listened as Linus gave his reply. Then she turned to the lump beside her on the couch and said in a quiet voice, "he says he's pretty tired. Can we do this next week?"

The doctor sighed and rose from his chair, closing his notebook. "Very well. Thank you Nourma. And thank you, Avatar Linus." He gave a short bow to the corner of the room and walked out of the office. The couch quivered and a seam burst open, depositing a gasping Xuexi and an avalanche of cotton stuffing onto the floor. She made her way to the door, executing a series of hasty bows, and hurried after Je Sig.

"So how 'bout that ending?" she remarked to the doctor, removing a wad of cotton from her hair. "Um, can I borrow your notes? It's kind of hard to write inside a dark couch. As a matter of fact, let's make it simpler. We can co-publish the paper on Avatar Linus!"

"That's an interesting thought," mused Je Sig. "Would the paper be more respected because of my name on it, or more ridiculed because of your name on it?"

Xuexi was unfazed. "Would it gain more readers because of my engaging writing style, or lose more readers because of your boring technical prose?"

Je Sig smiled and wiped his glasses. "That's exactly why a collaboration between us wouldn't work. Too many variables, I'm afraid."

Back in the office, Linus sat down next to Nourma. "Since we're alone, I want to talk to you about the other day."

Nourma turned away. "Well, I don't want to talk about it." She feared to dwell on her terrifying visions. They had not haunted her, but she still remembered them and had no wish to relive them. Nourma was also ashamed. She had felt the raw, primal power coursing through her and was unable to do anything constructive with it. Nourma had to learn how to channel the energy into her bending. She needed more training.

Linus started to speak, but Nourma interrupted him. "What was that technique you were telling me about? The one you said you would teach me if I told your story?"

"Don't try to change the subject. We still need to talk about what happened."

Nourma put on a weary, trembling face. "I want to talk about it too, but not yet. I'm...not ready. I need time to reflect on it."

Linus seemed to buy Nourma's ruse. "Very well," he said softly. "We'll discuss it when you're ready. In the meantime," he rubbed his hands together and smiled, "you can learn...psychic bending!"

Nourma beamed. She had seen Old Man Wu psychic bend in the village a few times. He would close his eyes, and after a moment a few handfuls of sand would levitate in front of him. Old Man Wu's ability had made him a celebrity, and he would refuse to say how to do it, saying "you gotta be born with it." But apparently any bender could learn the method, and Nourma was eager to try.

"It's simple to explain, but very difficult to master," said Linus. "First you must close your eyes and picture yourself. Nothing else, just pretend you're another person who's looking at you."

Nourma clenched her eyes shut and tried to imagine herself floating in inky blackness. She wondered what clothes she should be wearing. Her automatic response was to clothe her image in the brown robes she had grown up in. But she reasoned if she was going to airbend, then she should be dressed in the proper attire. Her image quickly donned orange Airbender robes.

"Next, you just imagine your picture going through the motions of bending. At the same time, you have to imagine the feeling of your own physical limbs going through the motions."

"That's it?" asked Nourma, eyes still clenched.

"That's it. When your mental image and the feeling in your limbs synchronize, then you can bend."

Nourma's imaginary view shifted her weight to her heels, squatted slightly, and rocked back. Her arms drew back towards her chest, left following right, palms facing outward. Nourma tried to imagine the feeling of her physical body going through the motions of a simple airblast. As she leaned forward, her left arm made a sweeping arc in front of her while her right fist shot out, spreading into an open palm at the end of the strike.

She opened her eyes. Nothing had happened. Nourma groaned in disappointment.

"Don't worry about it," said Linus. "You're good, but you're not that good. It takes lots of practice. But you'll get there. One day."

* * *

The packed van wove slowly through the midday traffic as it neared Lion-Hound Holdings. Summer was nearing, and waves of hot air radiated off the black asphalt. The rising sun reflected brightly off the glass skyscrapers, exacerbating the oppressive heat. The Financial District proudly displayed its wealth, and Ali marveled at the towering buildings. He felt the same loathing as Chin's office, but the feeling was tempered by his rapidly beating heart. If Ali's plan was to succeed he needed all the luck he could muster. He gripped the bulky satchel tight to his chest.

"Hey Ali!" said the person behind him. "Why do you have your own bag? Thinking of skimming a little for yourself? Chin doesn't react kindly to his people stealing from him!"

Ali muttered an intelligible response. The team's boss, Ryu, didn't seem concerned about it. "Let the kid have his purse," he muttered from the front seat. "It doesn't really matter."

They came to a gentle halt in front of 888 Green Street. There was an available space right by the steps marked with a purple curb.

"Pull in here," said Ryu.

"I dunno boss," replied the driver. "The sign says that purple spaces are restricted parking after noon."

"That's only for weekends," came a voice from the back. "Weekdays have unrestricted parking."

"You're thinking of downtown. In commercial districts, the parking rules are reversed."

"Yeah, but…"

Ryu had had enough. "Will you shut it? We're about to rob a bank! Who cares where we park?"

The driver turned away with a haughty face. "Just don't wanna get towed, is all I'm saying."

"So stay with the van and make sure nobody moves it." Ryu grabbed the large black bag by his feet and looked back at the van's passengers. "Start the clock."

The person sitting next to Ali pressed a dull brass stopwatch and the steady ticking began. "Five minutes," he announced.

They exited the van and strode purposefully up the granite steps, passing by the great gilded lion-hounds that guarded the entrance to the bank. To blend in, they had all worn expensive silk suits loaned from Chin's inventory. Ali thumbed the fine embroidery on his lapel. The suit cost more than what he and Dashtu had ever earned in Republic City. He smiled a secret grin. After today, Ali and his brother would never have to work another day in their lives.

Massive studded oak doors, painted red, loomed over them as they crossed into the shade of the overhanging alcove. Since the bank was open for business, the left door was propped open, allowing access to the welcome cool of the lobby.

The gang filed in one by one and spread out, scanning the room for threats. The customers were waiting patiently in front of the gilded teller-boxes, cordoned by a thick velvet rope. An ornate chandelier cast a soft yellow light on the polished green marble floor. A security guard noticed the group of unseemly characters and began to approach warily. One of the robbers took a swig of water and grinned at the guard. The guard reached for his stun-baton. The robber pursed his lips, sending a spurt of water arcing towards the guard. His partner curled her fingers downward and guided the jet to the guard's holster, freezing his hand on the baton. A third thief snuck up behind the struggling guard and struck the back of his neck, sending him to the ground with a cry. A few onlookers screamed.

"Three minutes fifty."

Ryu took a deep breath and sent a massive fireball bellowing out towards the vaulted ceiling. All eyes turned to him.

"We're making a withdrawal!" Ryu yelled as he marched across the hall. "Nobody try to be a hero! Your money is completely safe. The State will compensate you for your loss." Most of the customers and employees took his advice and cowered on the floor. Any person so brazen as to use destructive bending in a public building and risk the five year jail sentence was not a person to be trifled with.

"Cho, Ali, you stay here and guard our exit." Ali nodded nervously and gritted his teeth. In order for his plan to work he had to be down in the safe. Ryu continued on to a waist-high gate that blocked the way to the descending staircase. He kicked at it, blasting it open with a fiery wave. A nearby teller shrieked at the destruction. "It's okay miss," Ryu said softly, "you can press the panic button. We won't be long."

"Three minutes fifteen."

The rest of the gang went down into the basement, leaving Ali and Cho alone with fifty pairs of scared and inquisitive eyes staring at them. "You'll never get away with this," said a balding teller.

Ali smirked and reached into his satchel. He pulled out a souvenir he had taken from the stolen crate a few days earlier, unknown to anyone but himself.

A woman sitting nearby gave her own smirk. "You think we'll be intimidated by some piece of metal?"

The teller's face whitened. "Quiet, you fool! That's a shot-tube!" Fear registered in many faces as the rest of the tellers ducked down behind their stations. Most of the customers scurried away from the strange weapon. Ali was pleased. _Now they respect me_ , he thought.

"Where did you get that?" whispered Cho, wonder in his eyes.

"Oh, out and about," Ali answered casually. But his heart was beating faster than ever now. He needed to find a way downstairs without arousing suspicion. Luckily a robber came rushing up the stairs and announced breathlessly that Ryu wanted Ali at the safe. Ali grinned. Fortune was on his side.

Downstairs, the gang was clustered in front of the sealed safe. "Two minutes forty," said the owner of the ticking stopwatch. The door took up the entire wall and seemed to be comprised of brushed steel. But the gang knew better than that. Steel could be bent using the rare bits of earth encased in the metal. But platinum, refined to perfection, was unbendable by even the most skilled Metalbenders. The massive safe must have cost a fortune, but the fortune it protected was even greater. The only way in was to unlock a series of three levers sticking out from the door.

Ryu grasped the leftmost levers and gently pushed up, counting out thirteen clicks. The next lever was pushed down five clicks, and the last lever up again for three clicks. The gang heard a bolt drop from inside the door. A gang member reached for the handle. "Not that one!" snapped Ryu. "The second one down." The correct handle was pulled, and the door swung effortlessly open on silent hinges. Ryu smiled. Chin's informant had been right.

They all turned as Ali came running up behind them. He trotted up to Ryu, still clutching his bag. "You wanted me?"

The gang crowded into the safe and huddled around the metal table, shoving paper yuans into bags. Ryu pointed to a series of deposit boxes along the safe wall. "Search those. There's some precious stones that the boss wants. They'll be black and shiny." Ali nodded and went to the brass boxes, casting a longing glance at the rapidly disappearing money.

"One minute forty-five."

The first box was empty. Ali started to sweat. He needed to get Ryu alone in the safe. The second box contained some papers. All the bags were filled, and the robbers filed out, leaving only him, Ryu, and some Metalbender Ali hadn't met. The third box held some colorful gems. Ali tensed. It was now or never.

The fourth box's door stretched out and wrapped itself around Ali's wrist. He wheeled around, constricted by the makeshift handcuff, and saw the Metalbender sweeping her left hand down. The brass cuff tightened, immobilizing Ali against the wall.

"You think you're so clever," sneered Ryu. "You thought you would betray me like you did Chu-yin. But I won't be caught so easily."

"I wasn't…" Ali began, then winced in pain as the cuff tightened even further.

"Boss Chin told me to take care of you. And I'm loyal to my boss. Unlike you, you verminous leach-toad." Ryu and the Metalbender turned to leave. Ali remembered his shot-tube, still hidden in his satchel, slung over his shoulder. But with his opposite arm trapped there was no way of reaching inside.

"Enjoy prison, Ali. Your brother is already there." Ali froze in shock as Ryu continued. "It's only right that all you smelly desert savages are locked up."

Ali's face contorted in rage. Boss Chin had betrayed him and his brother. No one crossed the Umara and escaped the punishment. He dropped his shoulder down, letting the satchel fall towards the floor. When the bag passed his free hand, Ali reached in and desperately grabbed hold of the shot-tube's handle. The Metalbender, fearing some trick from Ali, turned back to intervene but it was too late. Ali raised the shot-tube up and pointed it at the Metalbender.

"Let me go!"

Ryu and the Metalbender froze. They stared into the yawning maw of the dark barrel. They were familiar with the weapon and knew what it could do. They knew that no Metalbender could affect it: the small weapon was made of ultra-refined steel, without a hint of bendable earth in it. Ryu looked at Ali.

"You don't have the guts to do it."

Ali straightened his arm, aiming the weapon at the Metalbender's head. He could see she was sweating. Ali spoke in a trembling voice. "I do. Would you rather go to prison? Or would you rather be dead?"

Ryu glanced towards the exit, calculating his chances of escape. Ali sensed his gambit was failing and started to pull the trigger.

The Metalbender cried out. "No, wait! Don't do it!" Ali felt the band around his wrist loosen. He stepped away from the wall and marched towards Ryu, knowing that he had the initiative.

"Inside! Get against the wall! Raise your hands! Don't try anything!" Ali barked his orders with spittle flying from his mouth and fear pumping through his heart. He paused at the safe door and looked at the two people cowering in the far corner. Ali was too frightened to come up with a parting quip, so he dashed around the massive door and threw his full weight against it. He felt the metal table crash into the other side, but the door had too much momentum, and it slammed shut. Its occupants were trapped inside in the dark, surrounded by a fortune they would never have.

Racing up the steps, Ali burst into the light of the lobby. The tellers and customers were still hiding around the edges of the room, while the remaining gang members were clustered around the door. Ali ran over.

"Where's Ryu?" asked one of them.

"He tried to betray me," Ali said with gritted teeth. He held up his shot-tube for the group to see. "But I had the upper hand. What are we waiting for?"

"The cops showed up early," said Cho. "We should have had way more than five minutes."

"Fifteen seconds," said the owner of the stopwatch.

"Will you shut up?" hissed Cho. "The timer's no more use now!"

"I'm going to jail anyways," came the philosophical reply, "I might as well finish my task. Ten seconds."

The ticking stopwatch was grating on Ali's mind. He thought of Dashtu, suffering in prison for a crime he didn't commit. It wasn't right. Ali gripped the shot-tube tight. He was going to rescue his brother.

"Five."

Ali stood up and walked purposefully out the door. The gang whispered at him to stay back, but he continued into the hot morning air. He could see the police arrayed out in front of him, stun-batons and wire shooters at the ready. Police cruisers littered the street, blocking any escape. All eyes were trained on the ajar door. They tensed as Ali walked into the light.

"Two."

Ali mechanically raised the shot-tube and pointed it at a cruiser. There were shouts as the police recognized what the strange object was. They scrambled to get behind adequate cover. Ali's finger tightened around the trigger.

"One."

The first shot ever heard in Republic City rang from the barrel. There was a loud crack like lightning that reverberated through the narrow streets of the Financial District. The fist-sized projectile arced slowly over the heads of the sheltered police and struck the hood of a nearby vehicle. The empty car exploded with a brilliant flash, sending burning debris flying across the crowded street.

Ali looked wondrously at the smoking tube in his hands. His hands were buzzing with adrenaline. He had never felt power like this. He was vaguely aware of Cho yelling behind him.

"Now's our chance! Get outside!"

In a daze, Ali ran back to the shaded alcove to meet the rest of the gang. Most of them looked at him with awe, and Ali suddenly felt embarrassed. But Cho and two other Earthbenders were squatting outwards, their backs to the gang.

"Stone sphere, go!" The Earthbenders raised their arms and the large granite slabs on the porch folded back into a protective cocoon, like a moonflower at sunrise. The gang clustered inside the dark ball, lit only by the narrow slits between the slabs.

"That was some great stuff back there, Ali!" someone said. Ali muttered, unsure of what to say. However, there was no time for admiration.

"Try to keep upright. We're going to move this along the street until we can get someplace safe," said Cho. "Keep your hands and feet out of the cracks. Everyone ready? Let's roll."


	9. Fraternal Bonds

BOOK ONE: VOID

CHAPTER NINE: FRATERNAL BONDS

The midday sun beat down relentlessly, baking the streets of Republic City. Outside Lion-Hound Holdings, Detective Malik drew a hand across his brow, inadvertently wicking a good amount of sweat onto the officer standing beside him.

An entire police squad had been dispatched to the bank upon receiving a tip from a well placed source. Malik was in command, eager to arrest the perpetrators. He checked his watch and glanced at the perimeter. Everyone was in place and they all knew their jobs. Malik grinned. It was a bold move, robbing the most secure bank in the city. The would-be thieves could never get past the safe. Once they realized the futility of the operation, they would exit unaware out the front door (or the back or the alleyways, police were covering every possible exit). A short struggle would ensue, the police would prevail, and the criminals would be hauled off to jail. Malik only hoped that he could somehow tie this crime to Boss Chin. It would be enough to bring down the Four Corners syndicate for good.

Faint noises emanated from the shaded porch behind the towering white pillars. "Here they come," he said softly. "Easy now." The robbers burst out of Lion-Hound Holdings, squinting in the bright sunlight. The police officers tensed, ready to bend metal chains and blasts of fire if the criminals did not surrender. Malik observed that the young individuals in fancy suits indeed did not surrender. After a pause, one of the boys raised a black tube and pointed it hesitatingly at the assembly of law enforcement.

"Spirits," whispered a young officer, "where did they get that?"

"Down!" barked Malik. "Back! Get back! Benders put up th-"

A sharp crack interrupted his orders, followed swiftly by an overpowering explosion that knocked Malik on his back. After a second he rose to his feet, wincing, and looked at the damage. His police cruiser was engulfed in black twisting smoke and bright flames lapped at the ruined engine. Malik cursed, dreading the paperwork he would have to do later. He looked around and saw that his squad was slowly getting up, more shocked by the explosion than injured by it. A few young officers were already hurling boulders at the thieves, but their shots went wide. The thieves themselves were huddled together. Suddenly there was a rumble and the concrete slabs folded up and over the group, forming a rough sphere. Boulders crashed against it, shattering on impact, but the people inside were untouched.

Malik was begrudgingly impressed. He turned to the officer beside him. "Get a wall up quick. They're going to try to roll out of here." The officer nodded and raised her fists. The pavement in the middle of the street folded up, exposing the bare earth underneath. The makeshift ball rolled down the steps, hitting each step with a hard thump. It came to rest against the wall, and Malik shouted for more barriers. But it was too late. The concrete sphere lurched to the left and started rolling down an incline. Malik ran to an idling cruiser, jumped in, and tore into gear. All eyes watched the ball continue onwards down the hill, picking up speed, swiping parked cars in its relentless escape before reaching the nearby docks and disappearing beneath Yue Bay in a great splash of foam and spray. The remainder of the police rushed to the waterfront in a desperate attempt to give pursuit.

No one noticed the patch of disturbed earth in front of the bank. The robbers had abandoned their poorly-made escape vehicle and escaped to the sewers beneath the city. Ali landed hard on the walkway while Choi closed up the hastily-made entrance. Someone lit a hand-fire, softly illuminating the panting and disheveled gang.

"That was amazing!" whispered Choi enthusiastically. "We got the cash and we got away! We're free!"

"Not yet," said Ali grimly as he got up. "There's one more thing we have to do."

Someone disagreed. "Speak for yourself. I'm taking my share and getting out of here." Ali gestured to his shot-tube. Even if the motion was half-hidden in the flickering yellow light, the implication was clear as day. "I speak for everyone." He grinned savagely. "Besides, without me you guys would be in cuffs right now."

"Alright, alright," soothed Choi. "Ali did save us back there, and I guess we owe him a favor." He nodded encouragingly to his comrades, who responded with half-hearted grunts of acceptance. Choi turned back to Ali. "I really didn't want to go to prison today, so I guess I'm in your debt. Where are we going?"

"Prison."

* * *

"Y'know, it's all a giant conspiracy." Dashtu's cellmate had been talking nonstop for the past thirteen hours. "They say Republic City's home to all four types of benders. Fire, water, earth, and wind. Okay, that's true, but who has the most power? You'd think Firebenders, right? Wrong." The old man sat back and caught his breath.. Dashtu sighed and looked through the heavy oaken bars of his cell.

It had all happened so quickly. The police had rushed him to the prison in the dead of night, ignoring his protests. He had been ushered to a wooden cell containing a sleeping occupant. Dashtu would have complained about the hard cot and lumpy pillow, but truthfully, it was better than his customary sleeping mat and bundle of clothes. Not that it mattered: Dashtu didn't sleep at all. Upon waking, his cellmate introduced himself as Hari and proceeded to launch into a ceaseless verbal barrage for the rest of the day.

"See, fire's strong alright, and it'll burn you for sure. But water puts out fire, no problem. And Waterbenders are more powerful than Firebenders. They got bloodbending, the best healing powers, and a whole ocean of the stuff to work with. But they're not the best either."

As Dashtu learned in Hari's fifth hour of dialogue, the prison cell was built out of massive wooden beams. They were sanded smooth to allow no purchase and coated with a heavy fire-resistant lacquer that made Dashtu's head swim. There were no windows, and the cell bars opened into a dimly-lit hallway filled with identical cells. Dashtu licked his dry lips and said weakly, "What about non-benders?"

"What about 'em? They don't matter; they're a non-entity. Now Earthbenders…"

Dashtu let the man drone on as his thoughts returned to his predicament. He wondered if Ali was okay. It had only been a day, but his brother would have noticed his absence by now. Ali would definitely notice the giant hole in their wall. But what could a destitute Umara boy do in a foreign city?

Perhaps nothing. Dashtu knew Ali always looked out for himself. He would not put it past his brother to abandon him. Dashtu lowered his head. He had made a mistake in joining Ali and joining in his banishment. Dashtu had given up his bright future in Ky Shek to live in poverty in a strange land. How could he be so stupid? _Because he's my brother,_ Dashtu thought fiercely, _and I'll never give up on him._

A blast raced through the building, interrupting Hari's soliloquy. Dust fell from the timbered ceiling, and Dashtu felt a welcome draught of fresh air from somewhere outside. He heard shouts and footsteps above him. The commotion made its way downstairs, where Dashtu was shocked to see Ali with a group of bedraggled strangers. He strode up to Dashtu's cell and laid his hand on the bars. "I'm here to take you home," he said with a smile.

Dashtu looked first at his brother in wonderment, then at his attire. "Ali! Where did you get that suit? Why do you smell like that? How did you get in?"

Ali turned and pointed a strange black tube at an old policewoman covered in dust, being held by some of the group. "Open it," he ordered.

The policewoman shrugged her shoulders. "Fine," she muttered as she shuffled towards a nearby panel and inserted a key. "Fool kids with their crazy escapades. They don't pay me enough for this." Hari, noticing that he had been silent for a whole minute, began rambling again.

A hiss sounded from underneath them and everyone jumped. The heavy oak bars lowered slowly into the floor. Dashtu walked tentatively out and embraced his brother. "Thank you," he whispered.

Ali patted Dashtu on the back. "Don't thank me yet. We've still got to get out of here." At that moment blaring sirens and screeching tires announced the arrival of the police.

The group looked at each other wildly. "We're trapped!" exclaimed one. Ali hugged the tube closer to his chest.

"We'll blast 'em and roll down the street, just like last time!" another proclaimed grimly.

Dashtu was about to protest that he didn't want to risk anyone getting hurt for his sake when he overheard something in his cellmate's ongoing speech. He turned towards the open cell. "What was that?"

Hari, excited to be the center of attention again said, "I was just explaining how Airbenders are the best benders."

"No, you said something about escaping prison cells."

Hari smiled. "Oh, that." He stood up slowly and raised his knee, precariously balancing on one foot. Then he stomped his foot to the wooden floor while shooting his arms over his head. A ragged section of the floor's middle beam blasted into the air, landing softly against the wall of the cell. Everyone stared at Hari in astonishment as musty air blew in from the hole. Ali marched over and peered into the dark opening.

"It's hollow underneath! There's a drop to the sublevel of the city. I...I can see a drainage entrance! We can escape through there! Do we have any rope?"

A member of the team rummaged in his satchel, withdrew a coiled rope, and began affixing it to the bars of an empty adjacent cell. The other end was thrown into the narrow hold. The group began rapidly descending down underneath the prison. Dashtu looked at Hari. "How did you do that?"

Hari gave his a queer look. "I explained it to you. About two hours ago. Weren't you listening?"

Dashtu rubbed his nose. "I guess not." He heard footsteps rushing down the stairs and clambered onto the rope. "Aren't you coming?"

Hari smiled. "Nah. I like it here. It's the only place where I can be alone with my thoughts. Nice and quiet." He sat back down on his cot and continued rambling.

It was Dashtu's turn to give Hari a queer look before slithering down into the gloom. As soon as his feet hit the rough concrete floor Ali grabbed him and they ran, winding between the great wooden pillars supporting the prison cells. They reached a large metal grate. Someone bent it back, and the gang disappeared once again into the labyrinthine sewers.

* * *

"When is killing acceptable?"

Sifu Noqtak's sudden question surprised the class. They had been learning about the origins of the Great War, how the leader of the Fire Nation attempted to destroy all the world's Airbenders almost two hundred years previously. The non-sequitur caused the class to sit up and look at each other nervously. The room was quiet until a pupil in the fourth row piped up. "Never," he proclaimed, smugly sure of his answer.

Nourma, sitting a few rows back, scowled. That student prided himself on being right all the time and was universally reviled by the rest of the class. She was pleased when another student contradicted him.

"It can't be never. Sometimes killing someone is the only way to protect someone else."

Noqtak gave a mysterious smile. "Interesting. Please go on."

The student was a recent addition from the Fire Nation, and was hesitant under the stares from the rest of the class. Nevertheless she pressed her argument. "Well, I mean, killing someone is bad, really bad. I think we all agree on that. But sometimes a person needs to protect those weaker than herself. The only way to stop evil...the final way, I mean, when all peaceful options haven't worked...is to fight back. And sometimes that means killing."

Noqtak nodded. "I don't think many people would disagree with you. But let's get specific. In what scenario would you have to kill someone?"

The class thought for a moment. Nourma decided to speak up. "If he was going to kill me, I would have to kill him first." Other students nodded in agreement, while a few voiced their objections.

"A true Airbender wouldn't think that way," said one, before blushing and apologizing to Nourma. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that." But Nourma smiled and motioned for him to go on. She was enjoying this debate. The student continued. "We are taught to detach ourselves from worldly and material things. That includes attachment to our lives. If I kill somebody else to protect myself, then that means that my attachment to the world is more important than my Airbender values. And the values are more important, right?" He looked at Sifu Noqtak for affirmation.

"That's true...up to a point," said Noqtak. "But let's make it more specific. What if you had to kill to protect innocent children?" The class murmured among themselves. Noqtak went on.

"Consider the case of Monk Gyatso. When Fire Lord Sozin attacked the Southern Air Temple at the outset of the Great War, the Fire Nation killed all Airbenders that they found. Adults, children, babies. Monk Gyatso fought back. He killed an entire squad of Fire Nation soldiers to allow the temple to evacuate. Tell me, was he justified in protecting innocent life?"

The majority of the class nodded their agreement. Nourma was among them. She thought of her parents, of Mehdi, of her Airbender friends. If an enemy threatened their lives, and there was no other way, she would have to kill. Nourma hated the thought, but knew it to be true. But to her surprise her stance felt intrinsically right, but mentally inaccurate.

"Monk Gyatso was wrong," said Noqtak matter of factly. The class stared at him in surprise.

"Young Xiang had it right," he continued, motioning to the original pupil, who beamed with smug pride. "Killing is never justified, and is never right. It is a violation of our most sacred Airbender principles."

"So you're saying Monk Gyatso should have stood by and let those kids die?" said a student exasperatedly.

Sifu Noqtak chuckled. "No, he did what he should have done. But it was still wrong." He looked at the confused faces in front of him. "Oh dear," he muttered, "let me see if I can explain it better.

"The penance for killing is being unable to escape from the circles of the world, to achieve enlightenment. It means renouncing what we as Airbenders strive our whole lives for. And that is the decision we must make when confronted with this terrible choice. Killing someone means sacrificing yourself, your spiritual self, to protect others. That is the cost of taking a precious life. Gyatso was put into a situation with no correct answer. He chose to protect the innocent, and he paid the ultimate price for his choice."

Sifu Noqtak glanced at every student, holding them in rapt attention. "I pray that you'll never face a choice like Monk Gyatso did. But if you do, what will your decision be?" His eyes met Nourma's, and she shrank under his stern gaze. "We all have the courage to make the right choice. But will you find the courage to make the wrong choice?" Noqtak shrugged and smiled. "That's enough history for now. Class dismissed."

The students silently shuffled out of the class, each harboring their somber thoughts. Nourma joined them, shouldering her heavy pack. She internally railed against her teacher's conclusion. Why should someone be punished for saving others? An Airbender, no, any good person had to protect the innocent and powerless. It wasn't that she didn't know the value of a life. Nourma remembered her mother raising a scimitar high over a prostrate figure, and the cry that sprang almost involuntary from her lips. She had prevented Aisha from killing Ali. But Ali had been powerless then, and not a threat to anybody. Nourma gritted her teeth. _If I have to kill to save others,_ she vowed, _then I'll do it without hesitation, and let the consequences come._

But thinking back to that day in the Hami village brought happier thoughts to Nourma's mind. She had been granted a week of leave, and she was returning to her home to visit her parents. Nourma was elated when she told Mehdi, thinking that her friend would accompany her. But Mehdi couldn't come. His job as an Acolyte afforded no days off, and certainly no vacations. Mehdi did have enough free time to see Nourma off, however, and he waited in the courtyard for his friend. The sun was setting as the students burst from the lecture hall. Nourma said quick farewells to her classmates, who wished her a safe journey before dispersing towards the dormitories. Nourma then walked up to Mehdi.

"Hey."

"Hey."

Mehdi looked down and scuffed his shoes on the cobblestones. "Well, uh, have a good trip. I wish I was going with you."

Nourma smiled. "Yeah, me too. Maybe next time." She hefted her bag containing all her belongings. "I'll tell your mom and dad how you're doing."

Mehdi's eyes met Nourma's. "Thanks. Tell them that I miss them. And tell them that I think about them every day. Only...not in a lame way."

Nourma's laugh echoed around the empty courtyard. "Will do." She embraced Mehdi and whispered, "Don't do anything crazy while I'm gone. Promise me."

Mehdi pulled back and grinned. "I promise. I'm too old for crazy stuff nowadays."

Another laugh. Nourma regarded her friend: his wide grin, his crooked nose, his adolescent mustache that was finally filling in. They had never spent more than three days apart from each other, and Nourma felt sorry for leaving him alone. But she also missed her parents, and she had a train to catch. She punched Mehdi affectionately in the chest, and Mehdi pantomimed staggering back.

"See you in a week!" Nourma waved as she ran towards the island's dock. Mehdi tried to think of a witty parting line, but it came to him just as Nourma disappeared out of earshot. He paused for a moment, then ran towards the Administrative Building. Mehdi ascended the creaking wooden staircase, climbed a rickety ladder to a rooftop hatch, and emerged into the cooling evening air. The lights of the city were starting to shine across the harbor, and Mehdi saw the ferry embark from the island. Mehdi waved, and Nourma waved back before yelling something that Mehdi couldn't quite make out. The ferry continued across the bay, and soon Mehdi could only make out Nourma's silver hair, shining dimly under the emerging stars.

* * *

By the time they reached the waterfront district Dashtu's clothes were as filthy as Ali's. They had traveled many measures underneath the city, using a series of maintenance tunnels and drainage pipes.

"When I found out that they had you I went to Po for help," explained Ali. "He contacted someone in the city, and he gave me them." He gestured to the rest of the group, following the brothers a few paces back, out of earshot. The rest of the lie came easy to him, and Ali saw Dashtu numbly accepting his story, nodding his head in a mixture of weariness and gratitude. When Ali had finished speaking Dashtu frowned.

"I appreciate your help, I really do. But I'm afraid we just caused more trouble. Did you hurt anybody? What about the damage you did to the jail? And even if I escape, the police will still be looking for me. As long as I stay in the city, I'm in trouble." Dashtu bowed his head. "I don't know what to do."

Ali reached into his ruined silk suit and pulled out a stack of yuans. Dashtu stopped abruptly and stared at the wealth contained in Ali's hand. Words failed to come to him.

"Think about it!" Ali said eagerly, eyes shining. "With this money we can start a new life. We won't have to work all day just to eat like weasel-dogs. We won't have to be under the yoke of our mother anymore." Dashtu opened his mouth to interrupt but Ali pressed on, waving the pink and green banknotes in front of Dashtu's face. "This money is freedom! We can go anywhere we want! Where do you want to go? Ba Sing Se? Omashu? Caldera City?"

Dashtu suddenly felt very tired. The previous days without sleep caught up to him, and he blearily murmured, "I've always wanted to visit the Fire Nation." He slowly took the proffered cash. Ali, having won his brother over, began giving instructions.

"Go to Miss Ashara's place down the street. She's had a room for rent for a while now. Stay there and stay out of sight. I'll be back in a few days."

"Where are you going?"

"I've got to ...return the rest of the money. And do one last errand for our benefactor." Dashtu was too focused on the yuans in his hand to catch the lie. But he looked at Ali with grateful eyes. "You did all this for me?"

Ali smiled with genuine affection and hugged Dashtu. "You're my brother. I would do anything for you." He pulled back and patted Dashtu on the shoulder. "Go now. Stay hidden and wait for me."

Dashtu opened his mouth to thank him, but the words stuck in his throat. He turned and walked slowly into the shadows, casting one last glance at his brother before fading into darkness.

Ali's smile faded. Cho, who had been whispering with the others, came up and said, "That was touching and all, but you don't really mean to give all this money back to Boss Chin?"

"Of course not," snorted Ali. "But he will get what he's owed." He turned to the other members of the gang. "Are you with me?" he shouted.

They looked fearfully at the dull gleam of the shot-tube hanging at Ali's side, and muttered their loyalty.

"Good. Then let's go pay Chin a visit. He'll pay for betraying me...for betraying us!" Ali opened a nearby hatch and climbed a ladder towards the surface. He emerged in a large room filled with three giant water pools reeking of fish. They had arrived at Chin's Hatchery.

Two henchwomen approached the group attempting to apprehend the intruders, but they suddenly remembered a more important task once Ali brandished his shot-tube at them. The gang continued through a dirty dimly-lit corridor and burst into Chin's office.

Ali and the others stood in their dilapidated, smelly clothes in stark contrast to the perfumed perfection of the office. Chin looked up from his desk. "Ali," he growled, "I didn't expect to see you again."

"Well, I'm back now," retorted Ali, who immediately wished he'd said something more threatening. To compensate, he leveled the shot-tube at Chin. "You're going to wish you'd never crossed me!"

Chin was unfazed, and remained motionless in his chair. "I've been running this city for years, boy. I'm not about to be killed by the likes of you. Look at yourself. Your hand is shaking. You're sweating. And I can see the fear in your eyes. You stink of it." He pointed a fat finger. "You've always been afraid. And that's why you won't kill me. Not today."

"Shut up!" Ali yelled, his voice quavering. He marched to the desk and struck Chin across the face with the weapon. Chin's bulbous body fell to the floor, his meaty palms splayed out on the plush red carpet. Ali aimed a savage kick at his ribs and Chin grunted in pain.

"I'm not afraid! I'm not weak!" Ali was shouting, spittle flying from his mouth. He glanced at the gang members near the door, staring silently at him, waiting to see what would happen next. Ali told himself that he needed a strong demonstration for them to prove himself as a leader. He tried to give his most imposing glare to Chin. Chin shifted his great bulk on his side and returned Ali's gaze with an insolent smirk. Ali tightened his grip, causing the shot-tube to tremble. This smug man lying in front of him had every right to die. He was a notorious crime boss, guilty of the most heinous doings. If their positions were reversed, Ali had no doubt that Chin wouldn't hesitate to kill him. The finger crept towards the trigger.

Then, in a flash of memory, Ali remembered something Dashtu had quoted years ago. They had been learning how to trawl for sand-sharks, and had just finished a grueling day under the punishing sun. The crew was headed for Ky Shek and Ali was standing impatiently at the bow of the sand cruiser, watching the endless dunes roll by. Dashtu was reading one of his stupid philosophy scrolls, relaxing in the shade of the sail.

"Huh," remarked Dashtu, "It says here that when a person kills another person, the killer loses a part of himself and," he squinted at the characters, "must begin anew."

"That's stupid," retorted Ali immediately. "The person who dies is dead. He loses everything. And if the killer takes the dead man's possessions, then he gains something. Who wrote that drivel?"

"Some Firebender master called Honshi."

"Well, Honshi is a fool. And don't let Mother hear you quoting that. An Umara tribe member must be powerful. We can't allow soft feelings to stop us from doing what needs to be done."

"I suppose you're right," Dashtu muttered, then lapsed into silence.

It was a foolish memory, but at that moment Ali felt as if he were on the edge of a great void, in peril of falling into the inky depths. His finger remained on the trigger. He paused for a moment, then shook his head. "You don't deserve the honor of a quick death," he muttered. Ali stowed the shot-tube at his side and dealt another kick to Chin.

Picking up the radiophone, he called the emergency hotline. He spoke in a fearful voice, which came easily to him at that moment. "Hello, police? There's been loud noises at 5438 Blue Avenue. I think somebody's been hurt!" He placed the transmitter down on the desk and pointed his weapon straight up. A shot rang out and large section of the ornate plaster ceiling came crashing down, showering Ali and Chin in white brittle chunks and fine dust. Ali gave the crime boss a few more kicks and rejoined his gang as they fled the Hatchery.

"What now?" asked Cho as they scuttled back into the sewers.

Ali had been working on a plan ever since they had escaped from Lion-Hound Holdings. It was risky, but he was riding high on luck, like a gambler who thinks his streak will never end. But first he had to convince his makeshift gang. Ali looked at them as they ran north along the underground water corridor. Eight people, all young and born into poverty, eager for wealth. He hoped they shared his enthusiasm.

They rested at the intersection with another waterway somewhere underneath Yellow Street. Ali could see that they were ready to split the money and go their separate ways. He spoke up.

"Listen, I know that you want to escape and hide with this small amount of cash. Trust me, it's not a lot. And you'll be forever on the run from the police. Aren't you tired of running?"

"I've survived so far," muttered one.

"Yeah, but what if you don't want to just survive anymore? What if I could offer you power, real power?" He lifted the shot-tube above his head. The gang looked at him quizzically.

"There's more of these. There's an entire crate of them hidden just south of the city with another Four Corners gang. If you come with me, everyone will receive their own shot-tube." Everyone's ears perked up and their eyes shone with desire as Ali continued. "Come with me and we'll have a place of our own. No police, no bosses, just freedom."

The dissenter spoke up again. "Yeah right. Where is this magical land?"

Ali grinned. "There's a small village deep in the Shin Won desert. The police can't touch us there. The Earth Confederacy leaves the desert villages alone. This particular village is defenseless. We could easily take over. And then we'd be safe." As he spoke his plan aloud he realized how ridiculous it sounded. But the gang was won over, partly because of Ali's promises of safety and freedom, but mostly because of the allure of the shiny weapon in Ali's hand. They had seen its power, and they desired that power for themselves.

But Ali did not care much for safety or freedom or his new toy. His motives were personal. He had neglected to mention that the way to the Hami village led straight through Ky Shek. Ali smirked. Let Fatima see him at the head of an army wielding shot-tubes. He relished the thought of his mother forced to bow before him and yielding to her exiled son. Ali would complete his revenge, and then return to his faithful brother. It would finally be over, and he and Dashtu would live their lives in peace.

* * *

Mehdi's next few days were gratefully busy. The library needed to be swept, the lamp bulbs needed to be replaced, and the warehouse needed to be inventoried. Mehdi missed his friend, but he knew Nourma was glad to return to the desert.

Mehdi missed his home as well, but he did not share Nourma's longing for it. He had experienced the outer world and was captivated by its ceaseless wonders. He wanted to see more, to travel to all the exotic places he kept hearing about: the Southern and Northern Portals, the Great Gates of Azulon, the Crystal Catacombs. It disappointed Mehdi that Nourma did not share his enthusiasm for exploration and discovery. He wondered if Nourma would abandon her Airbender training and return to the desert. Mehdi frowned. That would present him with a difficult choice to make.

His last task of the night was to refill the calligraphy inkwells, and Mehdi was longing for his soft bed. As he entered the deserted writing room, precariously carrying a pot of fresh black ink, he noticed a strange man, neither Airbender nor Acolyte, sitting at a desk. The man turned, and Mehdi saw a weathered face and the shiny badge of the Republic City Police Department.

"Detective Malik!" Mehdi set the pot down and joined his friend at the desk. Malik clapped him on the shoulder.

"Good to see you again, kid. How's the face?" Mehdi's hand automatically went to his cheek where Two-Nosed Ping had struck him, but it had already healed. He shrugged nonchalantly.

Malik leaned back and fiddled with a nearby brush. "Good to hear." He paused. "Listen, I didn't come here on a social call. I, we, need your help again."

"I'm in. Whatever you need," Mehdi said without hesitation. Malik smiled as Mehdi continued. "But I did get in trouble last time. They don't like it when I work with you guys. My supervisor says…"

"I just happened to run into your supervisor a few minutes ago. He said that under no circumstances would you be able to assist us from now on. I agreed." Mehdi's face fell. "I then told him that the Police Department would be conducting a routine audit of the Academy, and that the school would have to shut down for a few days. He and I came to an agreement, and you can help us again."

Mehdi beamed with pride. "Alright. What's the assignment?"

"Almost the same as before. We need you to follow someone in the Dregs. But this time it's not a hardened criminal. He's just a boy. I think you know him: Dashtu from the Umara Tribe?" Malik mispronounced "Umara" in his nasally Republic City accent, and Mehdi resisted the urge to correct him.

"I thought he was in jail?"

"He managed to escape a few days ago with the help of his brother, Ali. Apparently Ali's been moving up in the crime world. He has a gang now, and some pretty sophisticated weapons. We received some intelligence that he's planning an attack somewhere outside the city. I need you to talk to Dashtu and convince him to come with us peacefully. He's a good kid, just caught up in something bigger than himself." Malik put a hand on Mehdi's shoulder. "Let him know that his information is the only thing that can save his brother. This is deadly stuff they're dealing with, and I don't think either of them know how much trouble they're in. You need to make him see that."

Mehdi looked down at the ink-stained desk. He agreed that Dashtu was no criminal. It pained him to hear about him caught up in his brother's mess. But Mehdi was from the desert, which made him kinsman to them, of a sorts. He would do his part to clean up their mess.

A worrying thought struck him. "Did your intelligence say where Ali might be going?"

Malik traced his dry brush on the desk, debating whether to answer. Finally he muttered, "Shin Won Desert, maybe."

Mehdi shot up, almost knocking the desk over. "My home! Mom...Dad...Nourma!" He began to walk towards the door.

Malik's hesitation turned to anger, and he growled out to the departing Acolyte. "For once in your life, stop and THINK!" Mehdi paused at the doorway, looking out into the cool night. The detective threw down the brush and stood up.

"I like you kid, I really do. You're brash and impulsive, just like…" Malik swallowed and caught himself, "...just like I was. But you've got a real thick head. You want to go off and save your friend. Well good for you, nobody's stopping you. But are you going to fight Ali's gang on your own? You don't even know where they are!"

Mehdi's face burned as he thought about his past decisions. How he had jumped out the train door in pursuit of Two-Nosed Ping. How he had attacked the thieves' boss on the Rocky Run. How he had signed up to be an Air Acolyte without a moment's thought to the future. Mehdi had been rash, and he had suffered for it, time and again. He shook his head and turned back to Malik.

"You don't understand. Nourma's like a sister to me. If she's in danger, I have to help her."

Malik chuckled. "Oh, she's like a sister? I can see that. But right now you're treating her like your baby sister. Do you think she wants you as a bodyguard all her life? To fight every battle for her? Is that why you came to Republic City, to protect her from every bad thing out there?" He walked a few steps closer. "I think Nourma wants you as her friend. If you're truly her brother, then trust her to take care of herself. She's an Airbender. She doesn't need protecting."

Mehdi looked down. His orange robes suddenly seemed foreign to him, like a costume he wore to fool others. He saw the smooth and worn rock floor under his feet, and thought back to the desert and the familiar shifting sands. His shoulders sagged.

"I'll do it," he said in a soft voice.

"I knew you'd make the right choice." Mehdi looked up and saw the detective smiling again. "I'll be back tomorrow morning, once my team is assembled and ready. We'll go to the Dregs together, and I'll fill you in with the rest of the details." He walked past the Hami Tribe boy into the courtyard, stopped, and turned around. "Thank you Mehdi."

Forgetting that he had to refill the inkwells, Mehdi trodded slowly towards the dormitories, lost in thought. The Academy seemed deserted: everyone was either sleeping or sneaking into the mess hall for a late night snack. Mehdi stopped, suddenly recalling another of his impulsive decisions. He had snuck out alone into the desert when Nourma had run away. He had know where she would be, and when the sandstorm hit, it was he who had been there for her with food and water. Nourma would have died if Mehdi had not been rash.

Gritting his teeth, Mehdi strode silently into the men's dormitories. He quietly dug in his closet and pulled out his familiar brown desert robe. There was a way to stop Ali and protect Nourma. _Because that's what we do for the people we love,_ Mehdi told himself as he stole towards the dock. _Whatever it takes._


	10. Fight the Darkness

BOOK ONE: VOID

CHAPTER TEN: FIGHT THE DARKNESS

A sickle moon rose above the cooling sands as the cruiser traveled contentedly over the gentle dunes on its way to the Hami village. Nourma was at the bow, gazing at the night sky. She remembered the beautiful but harsh lights of Republic City, drowning out all but the brightest stars. But here, back in the desert, Nourma could clearly see the vast scattering of twinkling and shining points of light. The Great Band stretched from horizon to horizon, like an elegant jeweled necklace encircling the world. She looked at the passing sands. The occasional grains of quartz reflected the pale moonlight, creating a rolling tapestry of new twinkling stars to compliment the skies.

Nourma sighed contently and let the familiar dry air tussle her platinum hair. She had taken this celestial grandeur for granted as a child, and was now only rediscovering its beauty as she returned home.

Home. Where was her home?

The big city had its charms, and the yearning for adventure tugged at Nourma's adolescent side. Republic City had opened her eyes and her mind to a myriad of cosmopolitan cultures and tastes. The Airbender Academy had shown her that Nourma was not a freak for bending air. The back of her mind recalled the time she had bent fire, but that seemed so long ago as to be almost a dream.

But the complexity of the past six months, her worrying vision, her bouts of senseless and unexplained rage, caused Nourma to cast aside the outside world. Here in the desert life was simple. She wanted no part of whatever lurked inside her; she rejected her potential power. The familiar sands, the pondering cruisers, the squat drab buildings called back to Nourma. The desert was her home and here she would stay.

Nourma gave a fierce nod of her head as a physical show of her determination. There was only a small nagging corner of mind: Mehdi. Nourma knew that her best friend was captivated by the wide outside world and would want to stay at the Academy. The realization pierced her heart like a Yuyan arrow, and Nourma almost considered changing her mind. But no, they were two separate people. Their childhood days were over, and Nourma knew that if her and Mehdi were to grow up, they would have to grow apart. That thought ruined her contented mood, and she hung her head, observing the dull grey sands passing underneath her.

The stars grew fainter. Day was approaching as the cruiser approached Nourma's village. She could see the outlines of the north-most buildings, and the silhouette of the radio tower stood against the brightening sky. Weak electric light emanated from the building underneath the tower, and it was there that the cruiser stopped with a creaking groan.

Aisha was waiting for her daughter. Nourma didn't wait for the plank to be lowered. She vaulted over the side, arresting her fall with a gentle draught of air below her, and embraced her mother.

"I've missed you," cooed Aisha.

Nourma didn't respond. She just wanted to stay frozen in that spot forever.

After a short time Pasha strolled over and joined his wife and daughter. Nourma turned her attention to him, and buried her face in his robes. She smelled her father's familiar scent of mechanic's oil and minty cordials. Pasha patted Nourma's hair.

"My star-light," he murmured, "it's good to have you back."

Aisha spoke in a quiet, tense voice, thinking Nourma wouldn't hear. "Who was on the radio?"

Pasha pulled away and spoke to them both. "There's been an incident in Ky Shek. I need to take a sand-cruiser there now."

"Ky Shek?" Nourma frowned. "I was just there. It was my last train stop from Republic City. What happened?"

But Pasha was already turning to depart. He called back over his shoulder, "Apparently there was an explosion, and Fatima has asked for our help. I wasn't able to get any more details." He continued on despite his wife's and daughter's objections. "I'm sorry, but I have to do this. It will only be a day or two." They reached the cruiser, a looming blackness against the predawn sky. Pasha started giving low, forceful orders to the assembled villagers as they started to load supplies and equipments. The soft creaking of pulleys was interrupted by the harsh roar of the sand cruiser's blower firing up. Pasha gave Nourma and Aisha another quick hug and started up the ramp.

"Papa, wait."

The noise of the cruiser drowned out Nourma's voice. She drew herself up tall and spoke again.

"WAIT."

Aisha and Pasha turned to look at their daughter. Never had they heard her speak so forcefully. Nourma felt the gathering crowd around her, drawn to the early-morning commotion. A part of her wanted to withdraw into her familiar robe, but a greater part wanted to declare her intentions. It was time to make a choice.

"I've made my decision. I'm staying here. I belong here. This tribe, this desert is my home." She turned and looked up at Aisha. "I know I can bend air. But I'm not an Airbender. I won't allow my ability to define me. My future is mine to choose."

Nourma turned to her father, halfway up the walkway, and was surprised to see a bemused shadow of a grin on his face. Undeterred, she continued. "You are my father. And I'm the future chieftain of the Hami tribe. This is my home. And I'll protect it. And that's why I'm coming with you." Her flow of words stopped, and she was cognizant of the entire village staring at her. Nourma bit her lip and took a step back. "So, um, that's what I think."

There was silence, apart from the roaring blower. The first rays of the sun crept over the horizon, bringing a fresh light to the beleaguered crowd. Pasha's shadow of a grin disappeared, replaced with a hearty smile. He held out a hand to Nourma.

"Well, let's go."

Aisha gasped. "You must be crazy! Our daughter just returns from the city, and you want her to go into possible danger? I forbid it!"

Pasha shrugged. "Sorry, beloved. She's your daughter. And she's even more stubborn than you are."

Nourma gave Aisha a quick hug and disengaged herself before her mother could grab and hold her. She grabbed her satchel containing all her possessions from the Academy and flew up the walkway into her father's arms. The blower whined louder, and the cruiser's sails billowed out. The ship creaked laboriously out of the village.

Aisha and the assembled tribe watched it disappear over the dune, already bright in the rising sun. She unsuccessfully tried to hide the proud smile that crept across her lips.

* * *

A few hours earlier, faint stars shone down through the pallid yellow light of Republic City. For the second time, Mehdi walked through the streets of the Dregs. He had learned his lesson from the last visit, and he studied every face for signs of ambush. The scattered faces, lit only by isolated streetlights, studied him back. Mehdi had clean, cropped hair, a clean-shaven face, and an upright confident stride. He was dressed as a desert dweller, but Mehdi was a Republic City citizen, and no disguise could hide that fact.

The address that Malik had given him led Mehdi to a dilapidated brick building almost indistinguishable from the rest of the disheveled neighborhood. After casting a wary glance left and right, Mehdi creeped cautiously into the musty foyer. He heard a squalling baby through the thin walls. He stole carefully up the staircase, but the step gave a loud creak. A ragged sheet marked the entrance to the apartment, and Mehdi could hear frantic movements in the room. He glanced inside.

Dashtu was throwing his meager possessions into a blanket. He rolled the blanket up, tied it shut with a piece of string and turned around. He locked eyes with Mehdi and flinched.

"Don't be afraid," said Mehdi, stepping into the room. "I just want to talk."

Mehdi noticed that one of the walls was blown out, and he could see into the adjacent apartment. It appeared to be vacant.

Dashtu squinted at Mehdi's crooked nose. "I recognize you. You were with cousin Nourma on that day after the sandstorm."

Mehdi took another step forward. "Yeah, I'm her friend. And I know she's your friend. That's why we need your help."

"My help?"

"The police know that Ali has gone south, back to the desert." It was too dark for Mehdi to see the blood drain from Dashtu's face, so he continued. "We need to know where he's going and what he's planning." Mehdi stepped closer and laid a soft hand on Dashtu's arm. "Please come with me. We need to stop your brother before he does something dangerous. And you'll be protecting him. He'll be safe if he turns himself in. Anything you can tell us will be a great help." Mehdi couldn't think of anything else to say, so he waited for Dashtu's response.

The Umara boy was silent for a long time. Mehdi could hear the nocturnal noises outside on the streets. At long last Dashtu's silhouette seemed to slump, as if yoked by a heavy weight.

"I'm sorry," Dashtu said softly. "I have to do this alone."

Mehdi sighed and tightened his grip on Dashtu's arm. "I can't let you do that."

There was a pause. "I can't let you stop me"

Dashtu swung at Mehdi's head. Mehdi snapped back, releasing Dashtu's other arm. He threw a wild punch, but only succeeded in opening himself up to a blow from Dashtu's elbow. Mehdi grunted and kicked Dashtu's, shin but only connected with empty air. Dashtu used Mehdi's momentary off-balance stance to push with his full weight, causing both of them to stumble clumsily backwards. Dashtu's foot caught his discarded satchel, and both boys fell heavily to the bare floor.

Mehdi slapped away Dashtu's grasping hands and quickly mounted his opponent. He pressed Dashtu's shoulders down, but Dashtu bucked up like a beached salmon-bass and furiously twisted, trying desperately to reach for any purchase. Mehdi brought his full weight down again, slamming Dashtu's cheek against the cold stone. Dashtu breathed in the harsh dust and lay still.

Sensing he had won the fight, Mehdi couldn't help but feel a little pride. All he had to do was deliver Dashtu to the police and then hurry to help Nourma. His mind raced while pressing Dashtu's back to the ground. He could use the radio at the station to contact the village, and then board the midnight southbound train to reach Ky Shek by sunrise.

He shook his head. First things first. Mehdi grasped Dashtu's arm and bent it firmly but gently behind his back. Mehdi decided to try out a line that he'd seen Detective Malik use.

"The State is arresting you on…"

But as soon as the words left Mehdi's mouth, Dashtu tensed up. Mehdi had barely reacted to the change when Dashtu threw himself up with explosive ferocity. The back of his head collided with Mehdi's nose, and Mehdi was thrown back, already feeling the warm blood pouring down his face.

Dashtu launched himself towards Mehdi, a storm of flying fists. Mehdi threw up his arms to defend himself, but Dashtu's blows landed on Mehdi's face, ribs, ears, and chest. Mehdi dealt a savage kick to Dashtu's hip, but his opponent was unfazed. Dashtu fought like a possessed animal: kicking, scratching, screeching; anything to defeat his enemy.

Mehdi had playfully sparred with Nourma in the past, where their victory was a point of pride, not survival. He had never been in a desperate grapple such as this. And while his previous months of regular, nutritious meals at the Academy made him more muscular than Dashtu, they had also made him slower, more complicit, more urbane.

Dashtu, however, had been living in poverty. His malnourishment had made him sinewy but strong. He was still a child of the harsh desert, where he was only a generation removed from the desperate struggle to eke out a life among the sands. But he and Ali had been thrust from their privileged childhoods into the hard slums of Republic City. Survival was not guaranteed, and the two brothers relied on each other as they never had before. The city had challenged Dashtu to survive, and Dashtu was willing to fight. Now his fists rained down on Mehdi, pouring out Dashtu's anger at Ali's betrayal, Dashtu's anger at his own foolishness, and Dashtu's desperate desire to hurry and help his brother.

Mehdi was curled into a quivering ball, shielding himself as best he could against the onslaught. Dashtu stopped and fell back onto the floor, breathing heavily. Mehdi cautiously uncurled and cast a fearful glance at his attacker. He saw Dashtu rise shakily to his feet, covered in chalky dust and glistening sweat.

"He's...he's my brother," said Dashtu, not sure of who he was trying to convince. They stared at each other for a moment before Dashtu hurriedly bent over to retrieve his belongings, wincing in pain. He cast a last glance at Mehdi, struggling to rise against the pain. Dashtu paused, a black shape against the yellow streetlight.

"I'm sorry," he whispered before disappearing into the darkness, leaving the beaten Academy Acolyte boy alone in the room.

* * *

" _Now arr***ing ** *y Sh*** next stop ***s** ***ms._ "

Ali had ridden the monorail often enough to decipher the intercom's crackled message. They were at Ky Shek. He looked down at his bag. It was a nondescript brown feed bag hurriedly bought in the Dregs, but Ali could see the faint edge of the shot-tube inside.

The past few days had all seemed like a dream, like Ali was an actor in _Love Amongst the Dragons_. The former members of the Four Corners had eagerly followed him, drawn on by the promise of easy wealth in an unguarded city. Any doubts that they held were wiped away when Ali opened the crate of weapons stolen from the Rocky Run shipment. It was hard to be skeptical when you held a shot-tube in your hands.

His compatriots were eagerly glancing out the windows at the city outside. Ky Shek, slowly passing by, was lit up with a few sparse orange lights. The gang members sneaked glances at their own weapons, clumsily hidden inside their satchels. Their car was bereft of other passengers, save for an old lady also travelling to Ky Shek. She looked at the faces of her travelling companions and quickly decided to go on to Dusty Palms.

The train silently halted and the doors opened with a familiar chime. Ali watched as the gang filed out of the car. He had to will himself to rise and exit the train. They huddled up on the deserted platform. The train sped off and left them alone with the gentle noises of the night.

Ali withdrew his shot-tube and gazed at it. The cool steel barrel seemed alien in the soft warm desert. He had a moment of hesitation and opened his mouth to speak.

"Wait…"

"No time to lose, Ali." Choi quipped back. "We have to capture the riches of this place while everyone's asleep. And with these," he hefted his shot-tube on his shoulder, "we'll be unstoppable!"

"But…"

"Don't worry, we won't hurt anybody." Choi gave a quick grin. "...much." He turned to the rest of the gand. "C'mon lads! Let's take this city!" Muted cheers answered him. The gang ran down the platform steps into the soft darkness, leaving Ali alone under the light of the dim lamps.

Ali cursed. This had gone too far. He had wanted...he didn't know. But definitely not this. He ran his hand across the barrel of the shot-tube, his mind racing wildly.

If he could get to his mother and convince her to surrender peacefully and quickly, then he could avoid any casualties. Maybe it was possible, but time was of the essence. He ran down the steps and wound his way through the dark alleys, determined to get to the palace in time.

A muffled shot echoed through the streets, followed quickly by a booming explosion. Ali stopped and listened intently. The commotion had come from the south, near the market. The noise was joined by a cacophony of explosions. Ali started running, faster than before. Had they met resistance already? The shots were still ringing out, but their frequency was slowing.

Ali rounded the corner. He could see the palace, rising a bit taller then all the other buildings, but still sporting Ky Shek's distinctive checkered archways. The explosions in the distance had stopped completely. A bead of sweat traveled down Ali's cheek, half the result of exertion and half nervousness. _There still may be time_ , he thought.

Ali ran through the courtyard, passing the cheerfully bubbling fountain. He started to leap up the steps, desperate to find his mother in time to stop the carnage. But as soon as he was about to crest the top step, the stair moved beneath him. Ali tripped and fell. The stairs rotated in unison, forming a smooth decline. Scrambling for purchase, Ali slid down the freshly created slide until he was deposited at the bottom in a crumpled heap. He looked up at the entrance to the palace. A hooded figure stood at the top, looking down on him.

Ali raised his shot-tube, but the motion was interrupted. The solid ground underneath him turned to loose gravel, and he sank up to his neck. Ali struggled to free himself, but all he could achieve was dragging his weapon a bit closer to the surface.

"I banished you."

Ali cast his gaze upward. Even after six months of exile in a strange city, he recognized that voice. He spit out an acid greeting. "Mo-, Fatima."

Fatima strode regally down the slope, earthbending a new stair underneath each step. She stopped just short of her struggling son, the hems of her robe almost touching his face.

Ali stopped trying to free himself and looked up at the towering figure. "Please, listen to me! There's some bad people here, they're from the City. They have shot-tubes! They'll listen to me…" His plea faltered as he realized his mother was laughing. "This isn't funny! Don't you care for your people? I can save them!"

Fatima raised a delicate hand to her mouth and let out a final chuckle. "Oh, my son. You can't even save yourself." She knelt down beside Ali and stroked his hair. "I've known for hours about your pathetic attack on my city. My guards took your little friends completely by surprise. Do you think that these weapons you possess are any match for veteran Umara Earthbenders? Your cowardly friends all surrendered. And do you know who informed me you were coming?"

She bent down even further to smugly whisper in Ali's ear. " _Dashtu._ "

Ali felt the rage rising up in him. But it was quickly smothered by a great wave of grief and loneliness. His own brother had betrayed him. He was utterly alone in the world.

Fatima quickly rose and returned to a coldly detached voice. "Your treacherous friends will be turned over to the authorities. But you…" She turned away and gazed at the palace's dark door. "I left you alive once before." She turned around and Ali could see the cold glint of a scimitar in Fatima's hand. "Never again."

Ali rocked back and forth, desperately trying to free the shot-tube. Fatima glided around him, circling Ali like a preying lion-hog. Her blade scraped coldly against the stone. "This is the way of the desert." The shot-tube raised a bit. "And this time, cousin Nourma won't be here to save you." The barrel was almost out. Fatima raised her scimitar high. "I'm sorry, Ali."

Ali pulled the trigger.

The concussive blast blew gravel and blinding dust across the courtyard. Ali was thrown like a rag doll and landed hard on the ground. He got up quickly and tried to peer through the swirling brown mess. His ears were ringing and his hand was shaking. His shot-tube was gone. He needed to escape. With faltering steps he staggered towards the entrance to the courtyard. Ali's foot hit something and the object made a clattering noise. He bent down to see what it was, just as an earth bent boulder whizzed above him. The boulder smashed into a nearby column. Ali's fingers curled around Fatima's scimitar. He rose and started to run.

His mother's voice called out from the swirling din. "Ali!"

Ali froze. His body was shaking, his heart was pounding, and he felt something wet dripping down his arm. Blood or sweat, he couldn't tell. But he was too preoccupied for pain.

Fatima spoke calmly, but her voice carried the finality of truth in it: "No matter where you go, no matter what you do, you'll always be alone."

Ali hung his head. He was still as the sand spiraled in infinite eddies around him. He considered giving up and ending it all right there. He was tired of running, tired of fighting. But he couldn't let them win. His mother, Dashtu, all his enemies. He couldn't, he wouldn't admit defeat. He gritted his teeth and raised his eyes, only to see a brown shadow approaching. Ali dived to his left. A massive pit opened up where he had just stood. He scrambled to his feet and ran for his life.

He emerged from the swirling maelstrom of dust and debris into the clear night. Ali swerved hard to the right, narrowly avoiding another flying boulder. He escaped into the welcoming darkness of the alleyways.

 _Think, think, think!_ Ali's mocassins pounded the paved streets, pushing desperately for escape. The train platform would be guarded, and besides, there wasn't another train for hours. The Hami supply cruiser! Each night a cruiser was loaded up with food and oil and sent to the Hami tribe village in the morning. The sand cruiser would be deserted at this hour. Ali could start the engines and make his escape. He didn't know where he would escape to, but it bought him precious hours of survival.

It was a slim hope, but Ali would grasp at any hope offered. He tightened his grip on the scimitar, turned another corner, and started making his way towards the South Gate.

* * *

Flying was so much easier in the desert. Broiling thermals lifted up from the baking dunes and gave the wingsuit a steady lift. The cross breezes were light and manageable, not like the choppy gusts that inhabited the Republic City harbor. And if Nourma lost her concentration and fell to the ground, the soft sands were forgiving, unlike the hard cobblestones of the Academy courtyard.

Nourma had just experienced her third tumble to the ground, but she remained cheerful. Only three falls in two hours was her best record. She had outpaced Pasha's cruiser almost immediately, blissfully racing through the air like a sparrow-vole. Now she was alone, and the golden undulating dunes stretched into the shimmering horizon. Nourma took a swig of water and marched determinedly up the dune while thinking about her falls. The problem was overcompensation. Whenever a strong cross breeze caught one of her wings she panicked. Her counter motions were jerky and panicked, which exacerbated the problem, sending her down towards the earth. Nourma resolved to fix this on her next attempt.

As she crested the dune, Nourma espied a figure nearby trudging through the sand, but leaving no imprints. His bald dome reflected the bright midday sun. "Linus!" she called out.

The figure turned and his expression visibly brightened when he saw Nourma. "What are you doing out here? I thought you were in the big city."

"I was, I mean, I am. I'm just visiting my family for a week." Nourma didn't want to tell Linus about her decision to leave the Academy. Not yet, anyways. "I'm out looking for Ali."

"The whiny pompous brat who kidnapped you?"

Nourma giggled and nodded. "Apparently he attacked a city north of here. He's somewhere in the desert with a sand cruiser, all alone. I've got to find him before he hurts anyone else." She shaded her eyes and looked out across the desolate landscape. "But I was about to take a break, if you want to join me." Linus accepted.

They sat down. Nourma ate some dried pricklepears while Linus frittered and hummed nonchalantly. After a while the Airbender spirit spoke up.

"So I've been doing some research into your...condition." Nourma groaned and was about to protest, but Linus continued talking hurriedly. "It's not definite, just a hypothesis. You may have been born with a spirit entity inside you." Linus saw the horrified expression on Nourma's face and tried to defuse his statement. "It's nothing too bad. It happens to a lot of people...probably...maybe. But the important thing is that these visions and bouts of rage and new bending abilities you've been having...it's not you. You are perfectly normal. And, er, there's nothing to be afraid of."

"Nothing to be afraid of?" sputtered Nourma. "I have a spirit inside me! That's…" she struggled to find the words to express her revulsion. Her hand went to her stomach as if trying to feel the foreign entity. "How do I get it out?"

"Well, back in my day we had Fire Shamans who could commune with spirits. Do you have anyone like them now?" Nourma was too disgusted with the idea of a _thing_ living inside her to answer.

Linus could sense Nourma's fear and decided to try out an anecdote. "Do you know why Avatars are so powerful?"

Nourma was still looking down, pressing against her abdomen. "Don't really care," she muttered.

"Avatars have a powerful spirit lodged inside them, bound with them for all their lives." Nourma shot a puzzled look at Linus. "It's true. That's what allows us to bend more than one element. I rather enjoyed having a spirit companion." Linus adopted a hazy look and began speaking in a far-away voice. Nourma relaxed somewhat and settled back onto the warm sand, eager to hear another story.

"You remember the time I told you about the battle for the settlement?"

"Yeah, the one where you died."

"Well, nobody's perfect. Anyways, when I took that arrow to the chest, I began to fade and my vision became dark. But suddenly I felt a new surge of energy, like getting hit by a monstrous wave, only it was inside me. It's hard to describe. I wasn't myself anymore. It was like I was watching myself from within myself. Like I was a puppet and someone else was controlling the strings. I felt myself rise up, not stand up, but rise up into the air. I didn't know what was happening, and I was powerless to stop it. I swept the bandits away left and right as if they were toys. Soon everyone started running away. Fleeing for their lives. But soon enough I came across a bandit who didn't run. It was my old master, Eru. Her eyes were filled with such hatred, Nourma. I could never understand how people could hate with such passion. I think, I mean I believe, she would rather die than give up her fight.

"I could see Eru looking at me. She was nocking an arrow to her bowstring. I felt my body bending something, I think it was rock, and getting ready to crush her. And the sad part was," Linus looked at his hands, "a part of me actually wanted to kill her. Eru tried to destroy my settlement, my little slice of peace. She wanted to destroy me. Killing her would be just. It would be balanced."

Nourma stared at Linus, mouth agape. Linus looked at her and gave a pained grin. "But at the last second I had a small moment of clarity. It took all my strength to whisper a single word, but that word was enough for the titantic spirit controlling my body. 'No,' I uttered. I wasn't a killer, and nobody, spirit or human, could make me otherwise.

"The force within me faded, and I sank back to the ground. That's when Eru shot me again." Linus pointed to his chest. "The moral high ground is nice, but it won't save your life. But there are more important things than living." He put a soft hand on Nourma's shoulder. "There is a darkness within all of us. It drives us to cheat, steal, even to kill. It is a part of our nature, but we can fight it. We must never stop fighting it. You make the choices that shape your future, Nourma, not this darkness."

Nourma blushed, making her face darker than it already was under the desert sun. She muttered a quiet thanks.

They sat there on the yellow sands, her dressed in red and black, him in orange and white. After a while Nourma piped up.

"Linus, guess what? I can fly now!"

Linus' face brightened. "Is that what those odd robes are for?"

Nourma stood up, brushing the grains of sand from her flight suit. She took a few deep breaths and started running down the dune. When she had almost reached the bottom, she threw her fingers down and leapt up into the air. The blast of wind and sand threw her skyward, and she quickly found a gentle air current to drift on. Nourma looked down towards Linus, but he had disappeared from the dune beneath her. She scanned the landscape, but the old spirit was nowhere to be found. Her eyes fell upon a dark shape on the horizon. Nourma rotated her hips and glided towards the object.

It was a sand cruiser. The cruiser had capsized trying to scale a steep dune, and was now on its side, like a beached sand shark. The industrial blower had been torn from its rigging and landed roughly, spilling its innards across the sand. The mast was nearly split in two, the fresh white pine laid bare, and the sail lay rent and tattered on the ground. Despite the damage, Nourma could make out the markings of two crossed swords.

She alighted softly next to the wreckage, too preoccupied to notice her first successful landing. The door to the cargo hold had been violently torn off, and Nourma could see the silent blackness within. "Hello?" she called out nervously. There was no answer. She repeated herself, louder and without the nervousness. The only reply was the soft flapping of the grounded sail in the breeze.

Nourma remembered her radio. She unclipped it from her belt and pressed the transmit button. "There's an overturned Umara cruiser about twelve measures east-north-east of Shang's Cistern." She released the button and waited for a reply. After a minute the radio crackled to life, but any intelligible words were drowned out by static. Nourma started to repeat her transmission, but a sudden noise emanating from the dark hold stopped her. Buching her fists, she slowly sidled up to the opening and peered around the corner.

Once her eyes adjusted to the dusky interior light, she saw a huddled form sitting on an overturned crate. Nourma could see the figure's long, dark hair and fine robes. He was turned away from her, staring at something at his feet. A glint of steel caught her eye, and she noticed the naked blade of a scimitar. Nourma inhaled, readying herself for a fight.

Nourma clambered inside the askew cruiser. There was an acrid smell that overpowered the cargo hold, and she soon realized the wrecked generator was leaking a steady stream of fuel. Nourma took a deep breath and crept forward noiselessly around the strewn cargo and rigging until she stood a few paces from the still figure.

"Ali."

He turned, and even in the darkness Nourma could see the tears brimming in his eyes. His face turned from sorrow, to shame, to fury, and he raised his weapon high. "Leave me ALONE!"

Ali's attack was interrupted by a wall of wind that blew him forcefully back further into the hold. He hit a beam while in flight, and tumbled onto the wall that now served as a floor in the capsized ship. The sword went skittering away and buried itself in some tangled ropes. Nourma approached Ali with an outstretched fist, ready for another attack.

But Ali laid prostrate on the ground. Nourma approached with trepidation, her palms outstretched in preparation for another attack. She crept softly over open cargo doors until she stood within a sword's length of her defeated opponent. In the stillness of the dead cruiser, she could hear Ali's stifled whimpering. Nourma tensed, anticipating some last ruse.

"I don't…" Ali began, his words punching out like… "I don't know what to do. I thought I could make a difference. All I wanted was to make my tribe great. But…" he paused and winced as he shifted his bruised body, "...now, I'm…" He gestured to the interior of the cruiser, the wrecked and scattered cargo. Nourma relaxed her stance and was about to speak, but Ali continued.

"I had this path, this plan for my life. I knew I wasn't going to be chieftain, I was born too late for that. But there was greatness in me! Even if the others couldn't see it. Even if you couldn't see it."

"You kidnapped me." There was no anger in Nourma's words, just a statement of fact.

Ali's face reddened, and he turned away from Nourma. "I'm sorry about that!" he snapped. Then his body sagged and he turned back around, looking Nourma in the eyes. "I'm...truly sorry, cousin. I know now that was wrong. It's just…" Ali searched for the right words, "I thought it was the best way…"

Nourma cautiously took a seat on a crate. She felt the red rage against Ali in her stomach, but with a little effort she suppressed it. Revenge would solve nothing.

"I think I know how you feel." she said. Ali smirked and muttered, but Nourma continued on. "You thought you knew your destiny. But it didn't work out like that. And you were put on a path you didn't want to walk." Nourma smiled grimly. "The same thing happened to me. I wanted...I want to be the Hami chieftain. But fate had different plans. I can airbend. More than that, Ali, I can bend fire, too!" Ali looked up at Nourma, amazed.

"I can bend two elements! Don't you know what that means? So how can I be a desert chieftain? But here's the thing: fate doesn't get to choose. Not my life. Not yours. What we do, our actions, decide our journey." She turned to Ali, who was painfully sitting up. "So what's your journey gonna be?"

There was a short silence. Then Ali spoke up. "You can bend air and fire?"

Nourma realized she had said too much. "Well, don't focus on that part. Focus on the destiny-journey part."

Ali let out a weary sigh. "Thanks, cousin. You've given me hope." He rose to his feet and started to limp towards the hatch. Norma also rose and turned.

"Wait, where are you going?"

"Wherever. I'm going to find my journey."

Nourma chewed her lip. "Well, before that, let's go home."

Ali snarled and turned back towards Nourma. "I'm never going back!"

"You have to!"

Noticing his discarded scimitar on the floor, Ali bent down and extracted it from the rigging. He held it out against Nourma. "You can't make me!"

"Ali, wait!"

The scimitar swung in a great arc upward. The point drew delicately across Nourma's outstretched palm. It carried with it a thin trail of blood, following the blade upwards like a scarlet thread. Nourma saw this slowly, as if in a dream. She didn't notice the pain at all. Her vision just faded to a dull throbbing red.

Her limbs were not her own anymore. Nourma saw, through a crimson curtain, her hands shoot up. Ali flew backwards. The interior of the cruiser erupted into a maelstrom of swirling sand and debris. Ali was pressed against the far wall, arms outstretched, held up by the fury of Nourma's constant stream of wind.

She approached with halting, unsure steps through the swirling sand and flying splinters. Nourma tried to fight her actions, but she was utterly powerless, a prisoner in her own body. She saw a gentle stream of flames flow from her hands and orbit around Ali. He winced and struggled to reach the scimitar, rattling just out of reach.

Nourma's arms began to dance intricately around each other. A terrible gasping noise came from Ali. He fought against the oppressive wind and grasped at his throat.

 _NO NO NO NO NO!_ screamed Nourma wordlessly. But she was just an observer to her body's unyielding attack. Ali clawed helplessly at his throat. Hand twirling, fingers whirling, the onslaught continued. Ali gave a shuddering gasp, then was still. Nourma's arms shot out to the side. The storm of air and fire shot out, and then ceased. Ali hung outstretched on the wall for a terrible moment, then tumbled heavily onto the floor. The scimitar clanged down beside him. Nourma's vision faded from fiery red to the dull darkness of the interior.

Shaking slightly, Nourma crept towards Ali. She was in control now, just to realize how little control she had. Ali lay prostrate at her feet, slain by her hands. Nourma felt as if she was falling in an endless pit. She couldn't move, couldn't think. All she could do was feel the waves of horror wash over her.

Nourma heard the hurried hoofbeats of a camel-ox arriving outside. The search party! Maybe there was a healer with them. There might still be a chance to save Ali. She tore her gaze away from the body and rushed outside.

There was just one person outside, hurriedly dismounting. Nourma burst out of the hold and ran towards him.

"Please help! I think he might be dead! Can you…" her voice trailed off as she saw the newcomer and stopped short.

He wore the cheaply-made robes of a poor city dweller. His face was bruised and blotched. His eyes were bleary, the result of his long travel through the night and hard riding through the day. But even through the weariness and grime and foreign clothes, Nourma still recognized her cousin.

Dashtu stood dumbly for a moment, still holding the reins. His gaze drifted wonderingly from Nourma to the dark, silent entrance to the ship.

Nourma fought to hold back the tears. She opened her mouth to explain that Ali had been trying to kill her, that she had only meant to subdue Ali, she had been possessed and an evil spirit had caused Ali's death, that she had only been acting in self-defence.

"I'm sorry."

Her words, barely more than a trembling whisper, fell flat against the surrounding dunes. Dashtu raced past Nourma, his moccasins kicking up wild sprays of sand. Tears blurred Nourma's vision and she clenched her eyes shut, dreading what would come next. She heard stumbling noises inside the cruiser. Nourma started to walk away with jerky, plodding steps; not wanting to stay, not daring to go.

A plaintive wail sounded across the desert.

A single tear flowed down Nourma's cheek and she sobbed, unable to contain her grief. She felt herself spread her arms. A strong updraft bore her up above the dunes and she flew. Anywhere, nowhere, just to get away from the pain. Her tears rippled in the winds and fell to the sands below.

 _Linus_ , she pleaded, _Linus, please help me_. But Nourma sensed that there was a rift separating her and her spiritual friend, an uncrossable abyss. She was surrounded by an impenetrable veil; there would be no help. She was alone.

So Nourma flew on the cooling winds and above the golden desert, onwards and away. Her mind fought against the grief, trying to plan and think to the future. But she was inevitably drawn back, back, back to the darkness behind her and the void within her.


End file.
